Guardian
by LordsFire
Summary: Second in 'Dungeon Crawler' series. This story will probably never see an update again, and is only up here for those curious and willing to be disappointed.
1. Chapter 1

August, 1990.

Minerva McGonagall was a woman of stout heart and constitution, only in middle-age for a Witch, especially one of her power. Still, even though she did not show it much, the scene she found in the Dursley's unsettled her. She stood in the hallway that connected the front door, stairs, kitchen, and living room of the Number 4, Privet Drive, or more accurately, what was left of it. A large portion of the wall was smashed in, and Minerva's sharp mind easily reconstructed the origins of the damaged wall, the chalk outline of a man, and the many bloodstains about the house.

"Merlin," She said quietly under her breath, drawing the attention of Albus Dumbledore from where he was crouched in front of the cupboard under the stairs, which had apparently had its door ripped off of its hinges.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, a tiredness coloring his voice that Minerva was unaccustomed to hearing in the usually vital man, "This is far more serious than I had thought."

Minerva frowned, an expression which had intimidated many a first year, and moved over the yellow police tape to Dumbledore's side, the man shifting slightly to allow her to see within. Minerva found, for the first time since Voldemort's defeat, nausea rising within her throat.

The inside of the cupboard was, _literally_, painted with blood, a progression of increasingly intricate finger-paintings, all of which had the earmarks of the work of a child she was so familiar with, though escalating from one end of the cupboard to the other in complexity and quality to something surprisingly compelling. Minerva's agile mind trembled beneath the escalating horror of the realization that a child had cause to become _skilled_ in _finger-painting_ with what was almost certainly _his own blood_.

On the floor of the cupboard, carved out in a dried pool of blood, was a message.

_Your failure as a guardian for Harry disappoints me, Albus, _the message read, _I have arranged new guardians for him. Do not attempt to retake custody of him._

Minerva certainly did not know what to make of that.

Later that night, the various members of the suddenly-reactivated Order of the Phoenix had assembled in the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts, and Minerva was slightly surprised and unnerved by how quickly Dumbledore had been able to gather so many widely separated people.

"I've called you all here," Dumbledore said gravely, drawing his gaze across every member present briefly before he continued, "Because last night, Harry Potter was abducted from his aunt's house by persons unknown."

Kingsley Shacklebot started slightly at the announcement, drawing Minerva's attention, as well as several of the other more observant members.

"You know something about this, Kingsley?" Dumbledore asked, gazing intently at Shacklebolt.

"It's not been released to the press yet," Shacklebolt said, grimacing, "But yesterday morning, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

Deathly silence met that announcement, and Minerva's heart quailed within her. _That man_, free. Worse, he had escaped from _Azkaban_, something that had _never_ been accomplished before. This meant that a man, both terrifying, and terrifyingly capable, was loose, at far too coincidental a time in relation to Harry being abducted.

"That certainly casts a grim light upon matters," Dumbledore said gravely, "Are there any clues as to how he escaped?"

Shacklebolt frowned, and many of the watching members did as well.

"Nothing," He said, frustration evident in his tone, "He simply disappeared."

Dumbledore also frowned at this, and for several seconds, there was silence as the Order contemplated this revelation.

"Did anyone see a large black dog, that perhaps looked like a Grim?" Remus Lupin asked tersely, with a clenched jaw.

Kingsley looked at him sharply for a moment before speaking.

"Some of the other prisoners were gibbering about a Grim walking the corridors," Kingsley said, "It is hardly unusual for the prisoners to have hallucinations, it was only notable that more than one seemed to have seen it."

Remus scowled deeply.

"Black is an Animagus," He said curtly, "A large black dog that looks like a Grim. All the Marauders had an alternate form."

"Why was I never told of this?" Dumbledore asked with a slightly stern, reproving tone.

"They developed the ability during their fifth year at Hogwarts," Remus said reluctantly, "It never seemed quite appropriate to inform your former headmaster that you had been learning restricted magic behind his back."

"Black would have been Padfoot then," Alastor Moody cut in, "Which was Prongs and which was Wormtail?"

"James was Prongs," Remus said, "He was a Stag. Pettigrew was Wormtail, a Rat."

Something suddenly warped its way through Minerva's mind in a wave of fear, and she lost track of what was spoken of after those words, turning her thoughts inward to identify the fear. It did not take long for her agile mind to grasp the thought that had struck her firmly.

"Molly," She said abruptly, an unusual edge in her stern voice, as she stared at the red-headed woman, "Your son, Percival, has a rat, one of unusual longevity, doesn't he?"

The conversation surrounding her shuddered to a halt, as Molly, Arthur, Dumbledore, and Lupin's faces all paled as they realized what McGonagall was implying.

"Yes," Molly said, voice trembling, "He found it in the garden, nine years ago. It's missing a toe on one of it's fore-paws."

"I told you to put th' man to trial, Albus," Moody growled out, as he stumped up out of his seat, and lurched towards the fireplace.

"Where are you going, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked.

"To the Weasleys," Moody growled, "To catch a rat."

Thirty seconds later, the meeting was short two Weasleys, Moody, and Lupin.

"Well," Dumbledore said with a hint or irony, "It seems that this meeting will cover more ground than I expected, though events do make a great deal more sense now."

"What do you mean by that?" Andromeda Tonks asked, and Minerva could see by the glint in the woman's eye, that she was taking a vested interest in the disposition of her possibly-innocent cousin.

"There were signs," Dumbledore said sadly, "That the Dursley's had been mistreating Harry. It would appear that Black left a message chastising me for my poor quality of care for Harry; if Black is indeed innocent, and has Harry's best interests at heart, this matter becomes less a kidnapping, and more a mis-guided rescue attempt."

"But still!" Dedalus Diggle cut in, "After nine years in Azkaban, the man can hardly be competent to care for a child!"

"The message also claimed that Harry was being placed in the custody of a new set of guardians," Albus continued calmly, "And warned me against attempting to retake custody of him. It did not, however" Dumbledore said, forestalling objections, "Warn against attempting to _find_ young Harry, which will most certainly be attempting to do, whether Sirius approves of this or not."

Nymphadora Tonks, age sixteen, was desperately fighting off a smirk. Being raised in the muggle world had definite advantages; _she_ had found Harry Potter with relative ease. Watching the news, and being as up-to-date on muggle detective measures and law-enforcement practices as she was on Auror practices was all it had taken. Combine _this_ with with her Metamorphmagus abilities and her _very_ respectable O.W.L. Results, and she was _sure_ to get into the Aurors! Maybe she would even be able to skip out on Snape's NEWT potion course.

Either way, she'd better make sure she _had_, in fact, found Harry Potter first. Walking up the front steps of the modest country home, she knocked on the door.

It opened and a girl, not much older than Tonks, smiled at her, then looked her up and down carefully.

"Hello," She said after a moment, "You must be Tonks, the changeling. We weren't expecting you first."

Tonks goggled at the young woman, confusion nearly bowling her over. The other young woman smiled.

"I'm Catherine Gates," She said, "Come on in!"

Tonks, still staring in confusion, did not move. Laughing, the Gates girl pulled her into the house, and directed her into the kitchen, seating her at a bar-stool around the large counter.

"We had expected a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Catherine said in a friendly tone as she turned away from the still-shocked Tonks to her task immediately at hand, apparently making lunch, or possibly breakfast by what she was cooking, "But the Boss-man listed a few other people that he said might show up. Mostly Fudge's lackeys or the Death Eaters that wormed their way out of Azkaban, you were one of the few friendly names on the list, along with Amelia Bones, or the Flamels."

"Uhhh," Tonks finally managed articulately, and Catherine turned to smile at her while the young Metamorph struggled for words.

"How do you know all this?" She finally managed to ask.

"The Boss-man knows lots of things," Catherine said, then turned back to her meal preparations, flipping several pieces of french toast, "Of course, he also _doesn't_ know lots of things, sometimes its funny what he does and doesn't know."

"Like what?" Tonks asked, trying to find her way back onto more stable ground.

"Like sometimes he thinks he's actually in charge," Catherine said, voice full of laughter, and just confusing Tonks all the more.

"Why do you call him Boss-man then?" She asked.

"Because it tweaks him," Catherine said, "And we do usually listen to him, he is right a lot of the time after all."

"Is he Sirius Black?" Tonks asked, some hesitation in her voice.

Catherine laughed.

"That would be telling," She said tauntingly.

Tonks groaned, and let her head fall onto the counter-top in front of her. Catherine laughed again, and for a time, there was an amiable silence between the two. Eventually though, Catherine finished her meal preparations, and then turned to regard Tonks seriously.

"I am about to call Harry," She said, "He is very delicate right now. Do not attempt to physically approach him, raise your voice, or speak in anger around him. Do you understand?"

Tonks nodded solemnly

"Harry, lunch time!" Catherine called, then turned back to Tonks, "Also," She said, "He doesn't speak."

Tonks, again, found herself battling shock. A distant part of her mind told her this would be good experience for dealing with high pressure situations once she became an Auror. Her shock reached new highs as a small, painfully thin boy rode into the kitchen on the largest dog Tonks had ever seen. It was _huge, _and the boy rode it like a _horse_, save for the lack of reigns... Harry himself rapidly caught Tonks attention. He was bruised across almost half his face, and every visible part of his skin was scarred, to the point where the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead didn't really stand out anymore. When he entered, he had the happy, playful look, of a healthy child, but as soon as he saw her, he became wary, and hunkered down over the dog's body.

"Harry, this is Tonks," Catherine said gently, "She's a little clumsy, but she won't hurt you on purpose, do you understand."

Harry eyed Tonks up and down warily, then nodded slowly. Tonks gazed back in surprise and confusion, a part of her chilled by how much Harry's new guardians seemed to know about her.

"Now Tonks," Catherine said, laying three plates of food on the table, and one on the floor, "Could we persuade you to teach Harry how to master his Metamorph abilities?"

It was all Tonks could do not to spit out the eggs she had just put in her mouth.

It took Dedalus Diggle, Mundungus Fletcher, Arthur Weasley, _and_ Alastor Moody all combined to hold the frothing Remus Lupin in place.

"YOU BASTARD!" He screamed in insensate rage, staring down at the cowering and pinned form of Peter Pettigrew, "HOW COULD YOU?"

Pettigrew stuttered and gibbered, utterly terrified by the raging werewolf. It didn't take Lupin's more sensitive nose to notice when the small, balding man lost control of his bowels.

"That's an easy question t' answer," Moody growled, "Like any coward, he went to beg at the heels of the strongest bully around. Voldemort."

Then the grizzled auror stunned Pettigrew and Lupin both.

"You lot take care of Lupin," he growled as he levitated Pettigrew's unconscious body, "I'm off to have a chat with Amelia."

Moody stumped off through the Floo, heading to the ministry of magic.

Lucius Malfoy felt the tingle as one of the wards he was linked to in his manor was tripped. It was a very _particular_ ward, one that demanded his immediate, _personal_ attention. Striding steadily through the manor house, in an efficient, but unhurried gate, Malfoy found that something had smashed a hole into the floor of his house in a place he very muchly did not _want_ a hole, for fear of what would be revealed beneath.

As he stood over the hole, frowning down into its recesses, an impossibly strong arm snaked around his neck, and Lucius suddenly found himself held in an iron-clad choke-hold.

"Lucius old boy!" A cheery voice said jovially, "How wonderful to see you!"

Malfoy's jaw clenched as Sirius Black walked out into view in front of him.

"Black," he hissed, pouring as much venom into both his voice and his gaze as he could.

"Indeed!" The incredibly scruffy and disheveled man said with a broad grin and blinding cheer, "Fresh from my extended vacation at the lovely island of Azkaban, here to ask you incriminating questions and mock you relentlessly. How is my dear cousin Narcissa these days?"

Malfoy just glared at Sirius, unrelenting.

"Oh right!" Sirius said brightly, "Pure-blood pride and all that, wouldn't do for you to discuss family matters with a blood-traitor like me," Black's grin and eyes turned malicious, "Funny how that works, did you ever realize that should I be exonerated of what I didn't do, and you convicted of what you did, Due to proximity of blood-lines and etc, I would gain custody of your son?"

Malfoy went for his wand, but the iron grip on him slammed him to the cold marble floor face-first, and twisted both his arms behind his back, locking his joints.

"Now now," Sirius said reprovingly, "We wouldn't want any premature bloodshed here, would we?"

Lucius snarled, and tried to reach his wand again. Whoever was holding him snorted in derision, handling the blond Death-Eater like a child.

"So now," Sirius said amiably, sitting down in front of Malfoy, "It's time for the questions! First off, once I've managed to de-mushify poor Draco from your pureblooded nonsense, would you like me to bring him by to see you in Azkaban immediately, or wait until he's found a nice Muggleborn wife?"

Lucius thrashed in wild, ineffectual rage. A very real fear was beginning to grow within him, between the ease with which his home had been invaded, he had been incapacitated, and his son's future was being threatened. Like any bully, he responded by this fear by attempting to lash out.

"You muggle-loving fool!" He screamed, "When the Dark Lord returns, you'll suffer!"

Sirius snorted derisively.

"You Death Eaters are all the same," Sirius said derisively, "Dark Lord _this_, dork lord _that_. Never helped any of you lot when I dueled you ten years ago, won't help you now. I mean seriously, the half-blood horror was beaten by an _infant_."

Lucius screamed in inarticulate fear-fueled rage, desperately struggling against the relentless grip of his captor.

"Tsk tsk Lucius," Sirius chided, "No need for tantrums. You know, I think that's why I was never invited to join your little club of bullies, Voldedum knew I'd have edged him out for the top spot within a week."

"You were never asked to join because you're a blood-traitor!" Lucius screamed in rage, "Just like those bastard Weasleys, and Andromeda, and-"

He was cut off by a forceful hand clamping down on his mouth.

"I'd be careful if I were you, cousin," Black said with mock seriousness, "It's awfully close to the full moon, and you wouldn't like my friend here's control to _slip."_

Lucius suddenly became deathly still as a whole new fear suddenly coursed icily through his veins. A werewolf. _Inhuman._ Worse, something that could make _him_ inhuman. To Malfoy's blood-supremacist world-view, the thought was unconscionably horrifying, and his earlier enraged thoughts were overtaken by a stark terror that screamed at him to flee, to escape, by any means possible. Never let it be said that Malfoy was completely without backbone; as soon as the hand was removed from his mouth, he spoke flatly.

"What do you want, Black?" He asked coldly.

"Just for you to answer a few questions," Sirius said merrily, "Honestly and straightforwardly. I'd love for you to answer them before the Wizengamot, but seeing as how I'm person non-grata, that'd be rather hard."

"Ask." Malfoy said icily.

"First off," Sirius said, his continued high spirits driving Malfoy further and further into irritation, "Were you really under the Imperius?"

"No."

"Did you know I wasn't a Death Eater when they sent me to Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Were Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Rookwood, Nott, or Flint under the Imperius?"

"No."

"Was Narcissa under the Curse or some other form of coercion?"

"No Imperius," Malfoy said coolly, "She was, however informed that keeping her sister Andromeda off of the priority target list was dependent upon her good behavior."

"Have you been bribing people in the ministry?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Fudge, Umbridge. No others were even neccessary," Malfoy added with some satisfaction.

"Have you used the Unforgivables of your own free will?"

"Yes."

"How many of Riddle's Horcruxes do you know the location of."

Malfoy started violently at that question, under the forceful grip of his captor, his body barely twitched.

"How did you know-"

"_Where." _Sirius forcefully cut him off.

Malfoy was quiet for a long time before answering that question.

"I don't know," Malfoy finally said.

"_Really_," Sirius growled, glaring down at him, and Lucius could see the full madness of Azkaban behind the man's eyes.

"Really," he whispered, trembling.

Sirius looked up past Malfoy, at the man holding him down.

"Partial truth," A gruff voice growled, the first time the man had spoken since he had first taken hold of Malfoy, "He's telling the truth, but he knows more."

"The rest," Sirius growled, all light-heartedness gone, and the man above him's grip tightened painfully.

"_Diary_," Malfoy gasped, "In the artifact chamber, it's probably a Horcrux!"

A vicious, chilling smile worked its way across Sirius face.

"Such a lovely chat, Lucius," Sirius said, "Maybe I'll come by and visit you in Azkaban. Aurors?"

To Lucius utter horror, a pair of Aurors dropped disillusionment charms, and moved forward, and took him from the arms of his black-skinned captor.

"You know Lucius," Black said mockingly as the aurors dragged the unresisting Malfoy away, "It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is to outsmart Slytherins."

September, 1990.

Minerva McGonagall decided it would be best to leave off finishing her breakfast until she had finished reading the _Daily Prophet_. Pettigrew convicted of murder, being a death eater, resisting arrest, conspiracy to murder, using unforgiveables, being an unregistered animagus. Sirius Black exonerated, awarded massive damages for wrongful imprisonment. Those she had expected, it would have been hard not to expect them after the Order meeting a week ago. Harry Potter rescued from abusive muggles by Sirius Black. That she had also expected, for similar reasons.

Lucius Malfoy convicted of murder, conspiracy to murder, torture, perjury, bribery, hoarding dark artifacts, blackmail. Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Flint, Nott, many, many more names, under similar charges, including a number of Wizengamot members. Cornelius Fudge and Delores Umbridge convicted on charges of graft. Many other ministry employees fired for failing to report such. Somebody had lit a fire under Amelia Bones, and McGonagall strongly suspected Alastor Moody was the culprit.

In a way, it was reassuring to her that her contemporaries could still be such movers and shakers in the world; between Dumbledore overshadowing, so many of her generation dying in the wars against Grindlewald and Voldemort, and the fire of the younger generations, it often seemed as though there was nothing left for her own generation to accomplish. Shifting mental gears and setting aside the newspaper, Minerva resumed eating her breakfast, and turned to the list of Muggle-borns she would be visiting this month.

At the top of the list was a young girl's name; Hermione Granger.

Harry Potter and Catherine Gates stood outside of an unusually normal-looking grade school, an hour before the school was to begin, waiting. With them was a massive black and gray dog; Harry seemed to be attempting to hide behind the dog, which was laying down on his right, and Catherine, on his left. Considering the sheer size of the dog, and Harry's short stature, he was fairly effective in this attempt. Catherine was singing a soft song to the silent boy. After a few minutes, their waiting was at an end, as a well-maintained sedan drove up to the school's entrance, and dropped off a young bushy-haired girl.

The girl exchanged some words with someone in the car, then arms crossed the window for a hug between the girl and what had to be her mother, then the car departed, and the girl made a cursory glance around the schoolyard, before doing a double-take and staring at the odd trio. Catherine smiled warmly and waved at the young girl, while Harry ducked down until only his eyes and above were visible over the dog's back, while the dog gazed placidly at the girl. The girl hesitated for a moment, then eagerly trotted over to them, smiling tentatively as she approached.

"Hello," Catherine said warmly, "You must be Hermione Granger. Mrs. Green said good things about you when I spoke with her last week."

Hermione nodded respectfully before speaking.

"Yes Ma'am," She said, "Who are you?"

"I'm Catherine Gates," Catherine said, then lay her hand on Harry's half-hidden head, "This is Harry, and this lummox," She bumped the massive dog with her foot, "Is Black. Harry will be starting school here today, according to Mrs. Green, he'll be in your class."

Hermione's eyes light up with a tentatively excited smile.

"Hello Harry," She said, excitement coloring her voice as she extended her hand over Black, towards Harry, "I'm Hermione, I'm pleased to meet you."

Catherine nudged Harry gently, and he cautiously reached his hand over Black to meet hers, and shook it warily.

"Harry doesn't talk," Catherine said gently, "And he's terribly shy. Do you think you could show him around the school?"

Hermione looked at Harry, then Catherine in surprise, uncertainty clear in her features.

"Harry could really use a friend," Catherine said softly, crouching down so that she was on a more even level with Hermione.

Hermione looked her in the eye, and was surprised to see no condescension in the older girl's eyes. Hesitantly, she nodded, and then smiled reflexively when a broad grin washed across Catherine's beautiful face. Part of Hermione was very happy at the prospect of a friend, part of her was intimidated by the older girl's self-confidence and looks, certain that she could never be that beautiful. Her thoughts were interrupeted when a massive, rough tongue smeared a wet lick across her face.

"Ewww!" She said, squealing slightly, and glared accusingly at the dog.

Black's tongue lolled out of his jaw as he stared back at the girl, and Hermione could see the laughter in the dog's eyes. She furiously wiped the dog drool from her face with one hand, while reaching into her schoolbag for a tissue with the other, and was slightly perturbed at Catherine's light laughter. She looked away from the dog to stare accusingly up at the much older girl, but stopped when she caught the smile in Harry's eyes, peeking over the dog's back. She smiled hesitantly back, and Harry responded by moving upward slightly, so that his whole face was visible, and Hermione was startled by the scars that marred the young boy's face.

"Harry," Catherine said gently but firmly, drawing both of the children's attention, "Stay with Hermione today, she may accidentally do something hurtful, but I believe you can trust her not to do it on purpose."

Harry nodded, and Catherine continued.

"Remember Harry, friends look out for each other," She said solemnly, staring the young boy in the eye.

Harry nodded back just as solemnly.

"Right then," Catherine said, her tone turning to something much more light-hearted, "Hermione, why don't you start showing Harry around the grounds?"

Hermione nodded eagerly, then her eyes widened as the dog between them stood up, blocking her view of Harry. It was taller than she was! A moment later, she saw Harry's face pop up over the dog's side, smiling shyly, as he offered her his hand. Uncertain what for, but courteous to a fault, Hermione took his hand, then yelped as he pulled her up onto the dog's back in front of her. He was a _lot_ stronger than she had expected. It took a moment, and Harry's help, to get herself seated modestly on Black's back, without her skirt riding up too high, and then the dog looked back at her expectantly. For a moment, Hermione was confused, but it did not take long for her lightning-fast mind to come up with a probable cause for the dog's expectant gaze.

"Um," She said, pointing towards the gymnasium "That way?"

The dog turned forward, and trotted off. Hermione realized that there was a huge grin spreading across her face. This was _fun_.

Nymphadora 'say my first name and die,' Tonks hummed a merry tuneless tune as she moved on to Transfiguration from Defense Against the Dark Arts, cycling her hair through a bright array of primary colors in a reflection of her good mood. As per usual since partway through her fourth year, she was first to arrive to McGonagall's classroom, and sat herself front and center in the classroom. Taking a measured gaze around the classroom as she crossed it, she ruled out any potential threats, and once seated turned her attention to the room's only other occupant, Minerva McGonagall herself. A quick glance at the focused expression on her teacher's face, and the contents of her desk filled Tonks in on all that she needed today.

"Who's the lucky muggle-born today?" She asked with a knowing smile, and McGonagall's eyes flicked up to stare intently at the young woman in front of her.

"Hermione Granger," McGonagall said, "An extremely bright young witch and only child, noted for excellent marks at school. Her parents are dentists."

Tonks winced slightly at that last comment.

"Poor girl," She said.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at her remark.

"Probably never had a sweet in her life," Tonks said morosely.

McGonagall's cheek tweaked slightly into a grin at that remark.

"No," She said, "I suppose not. Still, parents of such high standards of education would clearly be one of the causes for such academic motivation. Probably a Ravenclaw."

Tonks allowed herself an amused smirk.

"Another egghead for the tower," She said in a put-upon manner, "Probably be lecturing us poor Hufflepuffs about proper note-taking by this time next year."

McGonagall's slight grin turned into a full-blown smile.

"Are you quite sure you weren't meant to be a Gryffindor?" She asked the metamorph with a smile, "I have perhaps a half-dozen students in a decade with the nerve to joke with me in such a manner."

"Oh, poo," Tonks said, pouting slightly, "I just know that your bark is worse than your bite."

McGonagall's happy smile lasted until the next student arrived a minute and a half later.

Fenrir Greyback screamed as something tore deeply into his flank, and lashed out with his own bloodied claws at the unseen enemy, roaring in satisfaction as he felt flesh give way beneath his own claws. His roar was cut off by a massive tangle of sticky, white material plastering him and his surroundings to the ground. With a snarl, the werewolf ripped free of the webbing that immediately bound him, but it took him precious seconds to force his way out of the mess. Hissing deep in his hybridized throat, the Werewolf growled as he sniffed his surroundings, searching for his foe.

A flaming mass of shadows roared across the forest clearing, slamming into the Werewolf, slashing at his throat, and setting his fur aflame. Fenrir attempted to grapple with the creature that assaulted him, but as the flames faded, so did the shadows, and he could no longer see his foe. He was smashed to the ground, and the silhouette of a pair of claws appeared, wreathed in flames, and laid into the wolf, shredding and searing his flesh. Screaming in pain and rage, Fenrir clawed and bit at his invisible assailant, but failed to strike another successful blow. The next exchange of blows tore into Fenrir's chest and throat, nearly tearing the creature's body apart.

Sensing inevitable defeat, the werewolf attempted to flee, but a blow from behind snapped his neck, and the Fenrir grayback fell to the ground, dead. A long moment passed, and the only audible sound was a loud panting, that of a large creature that had worked up a good sweat, but it rapidly faded.

"Are you sure about this?" A hesitant voice said eventually, from well above ground level.

"Of course I'm sure," Another voice said, tone clearly indicating he was tired of the argument, "It won't _cure_ Lycanthropy, but it will allow you to control it."

The voices descended as they spoke.

"If it's this simple, why hasn't it ever been found before?" The first voice asked.

"Change to the status quo," A deep, growling voice said from over the corpse, and an invisible force began to butcher the dead wolf's body, "What happens to those in power if a wild pack of slavering beasts, instead become a force of powerful warriors, beholden to none? Upsets the balance of power, and there are those who have a vested interest in the balance of power remaining where it is."

"Black," The first voice said warily, "Who _is_ that?"

"He's the one who helped me take down Lucius," The second voice said happily, "Had the poor old boy just about wetting his pants when I told him he was being held by a werewolf."

The first voice was silent for a few moments, and the only sound was the dead werewolf's corpse being messily rendered down for meat.

"Very well then," The first voice said.

"It's best fried," The deep voice said, and several pounds of meet were lifted into the air by an invisible hand, and placed into another invisible hand, "Tastes a lot like venison, but unfortunately you have to take the blood with it, even cooked."

No more words were spoken as the bloody meat was tucked into invisibility, and the first two voices left the clearing.

Tonks forcibly restrained herself from bursting into the Gates home, instead quietly opening the door, and stepping inside.

"Catherine? Jaquelyn? Harry? Black?" Tonks called with a moderately raised voice.

"Tonks?" Came the voice of Jaquelyn Gates, followed shortly by the fit, middle-aged owner of both the voice and the house.

"Proffessor McGonagall's going to the Granger's tonight, to give Hermione her introduction to the magical world!" Tonks breathed out in a strained but carefully restrained volume.

Jaquelyn frowned, scowling for a moment, then decisively moved towards the doorway that Tonks still stood in.

"The boss is out," She said, "We'll have to deal with this ourselves."

Tonks nodded frantically, and followed the older woman out of the house.

The Grangers lived in a large, spacious home, with its own exercise room, modest pool, and completely immodestly massive library. Currently, said library had one ten, and one eleven year old occupant, the elder of which was rapidly educating the younger on the finer points of efficiently and legibly writing in the Queen's English. Within the house's more normally sized kitchen, Catherine Gates and Jeanne Granger were preparing dinner together; the Granger patriarch was not yet home.

To the surprise of both the women in the kitchen, there came a knock at the door at the hour of 6:17 PM. Excusing herself from the kitchen, Jeanne Granger went to answer the door, opening it to find a calm, attractive middle-aged woman flanked by a jarringly polychromatic elfin young woman. Most of the jarring matter was her rainbow-colored hair.

"Mrs. Granger?" The elder of the two asked, something in her voice raising tension in Jeanne.

"Yes," Jeanne said, "And you are?"

"Jaquelyn Gates, Harry's current guardian," She said, and Jeanne relaxed somewhat, "And this is Tonks. If it's not too much trouble, I would like to be able to speak to you about some of the special circumstances around Harry."

"Of course," Jeanne said, come on in, Catherine and I were just preparing dinner.

"I'd be happy to help you," Jaquelyn said, "And Tonks could probably do with some observational practice."

The younger woman scowled at the older, blushing slightly. Jeanne raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not much good in the kitchen," Tonks grumbled, and Jeanne smiled slightly.

"Well, to the kitchen it is then," Jeanne said brightly, and the three women moved to the kitchen, where they were met by a somewhat startled Catherine.

"Lyn?" She said surprised, "What are you doing here."

"How many times must I tell you to call me Auntie," Jaquelyn said with a frown.

"Sorry Auntie," Catherine said, ducking her head and blushing.

Jeanne looked at the two confused, but didn't say anything.

"Anyways," Jaquelyn said as she intuitively slotted herself into assisting Catherine in the salad making process in front of her, "As I said, there are some special circumstances regarding Harry I need to discuss with you."

"I already know that Harry does not speak," Jeanne said, "And it isn't hard to gather that he has probably been abused in the past, judging from all the scars."

"Yes," Jaquelyn said, nodding, "What you don't know is that we've barely had him for a month. He was rescued forcibly from his abusive aunt and uncle's house in early August, and we took custody of him the next day, in a special house with special security measures."

Jeanne, who was in the process of removing a cake from the oven at that point, looked at Jaquelyn for a moment, obviously confused.

"Why on earth would Harry need security?" Jeanne asked, placing the cake on the counter to cool.

"This is where things more difficult to explain come in," Jaquelyn said evenly, looking Jeanne in the eye, concern evident in both her face and tone, "Tonks, if you would care to demonstrate."

Tonks, now the focus of all three other women's attention, nodded eagerly, and her hair rapidly shifted shape so that it resembled a rainbow not only in color, but also in form. Jeanne's highly educated, rational scientific mind suffered a short circuit, and she just stood there, staring. Tonks, ever the mischief-maker, grinned and changed first the shape of her hair, then the color, to make a crude amalgam of a second head peaking over her right shoulder.

"Looks a bit like she's had a Pan-galactic Gargle Blaster," Tonks whispered conspiratorially to her second faux-head.

It nodded, smirking in response.

"Well, except for the falling down and passing out into a coma bit," Tonks continued, studying Jeanne carefully.

Her 'second head' nodded again.

"What on earth?" Jeanne breathed, her brain finally working back into gear.

"That'll be enough, Tonks," Jaquelyn said, her voice poorly concealing her grin, "Harry, like Tonks here," She said, turning back to face Jeanne, and gaining her attention as Tonks hair faded to something more mundane, "And in fact your own daughter as well, is magical."

Jeanne suddenly found herself needing to sit down, as many, many unexplained occurences over the last eleven years began to make sense. Fortunately for her, Catherine slipped in and assisted the heavily distracted woman to a chair. For several long minutes, she was aware of nothing but mental connections being made, and a large, rising sense of relief as a burden on her heart was lifted, and worries were eased. Around her, Catherine and Jaquelyn continued with meal preparations, receiving limited help from Tonks. Eventually though, Jeanne's attention turned outwards again.

"How do you know all these things?" She asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"Tonks here is a student of the woman who will be showing up today to introduce you to the magical world," Jaquelyn said, "She came by our house earlier to warn us. As to why she would do such a thing, Harry is a high-profile target in the magical world, and we need to be on hand to ensure that he is not exposed to the same kind of treatment we rescued him from barely a month past."

"Is this woman dangerous?" Jeanne asked, not noticing the offended look on Tonk's face at the potential accusation.

"Not in and of herself," Jaquelyn said, "But unless given good reason, she will spread word of Harry's whereabouts, and that will draw attention from many dangerous figures."

Jeanne nodded hesitantly before speaking again.

"What does this mean for Hermione?"

Jaquelyn sighed, set aside the task at hand, and crossed the kitchen to sit down across from Jeanne.

"I will be forthright with you," She said, "We specifically selected the school to send Harry to, because we knew Hermione would be there. The leader of our little group, with the endorsement of the queen, is attempting to make a very thorough renovation of the British magical community, and breaking Harry free from the many forces attempting to control his life, and introducing him to someone we knew would be a good, loyal friend, not to mention needed a friend herself, was one of the early steps."

Jeanne was unsure whether she should be upset with what her daughter was potentially being dragged into, proud of how much faith these near-strangers placed in Hermione's character, or touched by their attempt to engineer a friendship for her. Her dilemma was preempted, however, by Jaquelyn continuing to speak.

"There's more to it than that," She pressed on, and her tone was sad now, "Whether you like it or not, your daughter is about to be pulled into a world that has deeply racist elements. British magicals refer to non-magical people as muggles, people born of purely magical blood 'Purebloods,' and those with mixed parentage, 'half-bloods.' Many powerful members of the so-called 'Pureblood' community are fanatical racists, believing that they should rule over all that do not meet their standards of blood-purity. It is by and large just this faction that our leader is actively purging from British magical society. You are intelligent enough, however, to recognize that these attitudes, even if legally unacceptable, will affect your daughter, especially since she is almost certain to outshine her 'pureblood' peers with her brilliance."

Jeanne stared at Jaquelyn, uncertain how to respond to these rather dire proclamations. Jaquelyn smiled, a sad, sympathetic expression.

"Not what you were expecting tonight, was it?" She asked sympathetically.

Jeanne just shook her head wordlessly.

"Not what I expected either, when I got involved with all this," Jaquelyn said, "But someone needed to look after Catherine and the Boss, and he'd already saved my life."

"I'm not sure if I can accept this," Jeanne said slowly.

Jaquelyn nodded, smiling in understanding.

"That's understandable," She said in a warm tone, "We're just here to warn you, not to try to tell you what to do. Professor McGonagall will be here at Eight PM sharp though, knowing her, and when she finds out about Harry, we will have to have words with her. Your own decision about how to react to all of this is up to you."

Jeanne nodded vaguely as her mind whirled with new input, demands at denial, concern for her daughter, and a great deal of confusion. Fortunately for her, Jaquelyn knew how to help people struggling with having their entire world-view implode.

"Jeanne, could you tell me where you keep your cheese grater?"

Hostly instincts kicking in, Jeanne got up to resume dinner preparation, and the normalcy of the physical routine helped ground her as her mind struggled with the extra-normal.

Amelia Bones, newly invested Minister of Magic, smiled at Elizabeth the Second, Queen of England as she served them both tea.

"It's nice to see you in good health, your majesty," Amelia said, and the queen smiled back at her.

"It is nice to see a woman of character in control of the Magical Ministry," The Queen returned, "I have been concerned for quite some time about the rather questionable qualities of Cornelius' administration."

"As have I, your majesty," Amelia returned, a dark note in her voice for a few moments, but she shook it off.

"Fortunately," The Queen continued to Amelia's surprise, "My agents within the magical community have been able to effect change."

That caught Amelia completely by surprise. While she held her loyalty to the queen in truth, it was considered common knowledge amongst the magical community that the queen took a hands-off attitude towards handling their affairs. The fact that she not only had taken a direct hand in matters, but Amelia, as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had not even _noticed_ was stunning. In spite of the sheer shock of the revelation, the only outward reaction Amelia showed was a slight hesitation as she poured her own tea.

"I was unaware you had agents involved in the recent political upheaval in the magical world," Amelia said, ever the forthright and blunt woman.

"Just as I desired it to be," Elizabeth said, smiling, "Something that you may or may not wish to pass on to the rest of your government."

Amelia nodded, and sipped her tea.

"In July," The Queen said after taking a sip of her own tea, "I became aware of young Lord Potter's circumstances, and found myself constrained to act. After asking a few questions in the right places, I also learned that Lord Black was in Azkaban, apparently without a trial."

Amelia grimaced at that.

"Yes, your majesty," She said, with tightly restrained bitterness in her tone, "It appears that someone falsified the documentation involved in his case, something that I pressed upon the new head of the DMLE as a priority for investigation."

Elizabeth nodded, taking another sip before speaking again.

"After I discovered that, all I had to do was send one of my agents to inform Lord Black of the poor circumstances in which his Godson resided. From that point on, no further intervention on my part was required. I do prefer to govern with as light a hand as possible, and it is thanks largely to your excellent service to The Crown that no more involvement on my part has been necessary."

"I'm honored by your words," Amelia said quietly, "I did not realize the Crown's eyes were on me."

"The Crown sees more than most think," Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eyes, "Now, tell me how your niece Susan is doing."

Minerva McGonagall looked at the young eyes in front of her in shock. It was as though Lily Potter's eyes were staring at her from beyond the veil of death. Around those eyes though, was something that horrified her. A scarred face, with the slightly misshapen note that her experience as both a Transfiguration Master and a teacher of children told her only came with damage to the bone structure of a face. Damage that only came from violence. It was simultaneously one of the most heartwarming and horrifying experiences of her life, and the emotional dissonance made her feel dizzy.

Fortunately, a young woman she did not recognize helpfully guided her over to a seat and helped her down into it. After several long moments, Minerva was able to regain some equilibrium, and she looked up at the girl with a smile.

"Thank you," She said, "You are?"

"I'm Catherine Gates, Professor McGonagall," The young woman said with a smile, then moved to sit beside the two older women in the living room.

"As I said," Minerva said, regaining her mental equilibrium, "I'm Minerva McGonagall, and I've come to offer your daughter an invitation to the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The bushy-haired woman on the right end of the couch nodded slowly, looking at the girl sitting on the love seat across from her. The girl was staring at McGonagall with intensely inquisitive eyes, and the boy sitting next to her, the one with Lily's eyes, who _had_ to be Harry Potter, was looking at her curiously as well.

"Pardon me for asking," She said, carefully restraining the desperation that wanted to enter her voice, "But is this young man Harry Potter?"

"Yes," The other middle-aged woman said, staring Minerva directly in the eyes, "And by order of the Queen, you will not be informing either the magical government, Albus Dumbledore, or any other member of the magical community of his whereabouts."

Minerva completely lost the mental equilibrium she had so recently regained.

"The _Queen_?" She breathed faintly.

"Yes," The other woman said, "I am one of Lord Potter's two newly appointed guardians. Until such time as the two of us choose to re-enter him into the public sphere, only the decision of both of us, together, can permit the dissemination of information regarding the whereabouts of Harry Potter."

For a moment there was silence, the other woman continuing to gaze at Minerva purposefully.

"Sirius Black is not the other guardian?" Minerva asked eventually, having taken note of the specific meaning of the woman's words.

"No," She said, "Due to the effects of nine years in Azkaban, Lord Black is not currently a suitable guardian. I am Jaquelyn Gates. The other guardian's name is not for public consumption."

"Where is he?" Minerva asked.

"If things are moving according to schedule," The woman said, glancing down at her watch as she spoke, "He should be killing Fenrir Greyback just about now."

Later that night, Jaquelyn, Catherine, and Harry sat on the back porch of their house outside London, looking up at the stars, a modified CB radio sitting next to them.

"Do you think it will last?" Catherine said quietly, softly stroking Harry's head as the boy leaned up against her drowsily.

"Tonks says she's a good woman," Jaquelyn said after a while, "We can really only hope."

"We can handle things if it doesn't last," A distorted, tinny voice said through the radio.

"I know," Catherine said, "It's just..." Her voice trailed off.

"Just what?" Jaquelyn asked softly.

"I don't understand how Boss can handle all the pressure," Catherine said, "I know I couldn't, and the boss has, in his own way had things just as bad as the rest of it."

"You learn to live with it, little one," The voice through the radio said gently, "Insanity and death are the only alternatives."

"You're not exactly a poster-boy for sanity yourself, bomb-man," Catherine said with some sarcasm.

The voice laughed, an oddly distorted sound through the radio.

"All of us that bear scars develop our own eccentricities," The voice said, "Lyn drives herself into her work, I play with my explosives, I know you've become somewhat compulsive about cleanliness and punctuality. Harry doesn't speak, and the Boss-"

"The Boss drives himself into his purpose," A new voice said, his tone a strange duality of harsh and gentle, "And argues with God like the fool he is."

Catherine and the others turned to the corner of the house, where a silhouette broke free from the shadows, and came over to join them.

"Good to see you Boss," The voice from the radio said, "Bring me along next time. Any complications?"

"No," The man said, seating himself neatly in the space between Caitlyn and Jaquelyn, "And you wouldn't have fit in the forest anyways."

A harsh metallic snorting sound rolled across the speaker, but nothing more.

A few moments of silence passed.

"Are you alright?" Jaquelyn asked quietly.

"Fine. He managed to claw me once, but for the most part he was just really tough."

Jaquelyn nodded, but by the way she wrapped an arm around the younger man's torso, it was easy to see she was concerned for him. For a few minutes, there was a pregnant silence, even through Catherine leaning into his other side.

"I really wish you'd let some of us come along and help when you fight," Jaquelyn finally said.

"_Yeah_," Said the voice through the radio, "I'm getting _bored_."

The man frowned, looking out at the large barn behind their house.

"You know you're the only one who can keep up with me," He said, "And I'd bring you along if it was practical. None of the ladies are anywhere close to as powerful as either of us."

"I'm getting better with the gun," Catherine chipped into the conversation.

"That's great," He replied, his tone a mixture of encouragement and frustration, "But that doesn't mean you're ready for the kind of fights I get into."

"I've seen how you fight," She said pointedly.

"And do you think you can keep up?" He replied.

She was silent, but shifted her body around so that she faced away from him, and he could read her frustration. Jaquelyn reached around to squeeze the younger woman's shoulder comfortingly, and Harry gave her an encouraging squeeze.

"I know you're frustrated," He sighed, "But you're just not ready yet. When the fights are less dangerous, or you're more ready, or things are more desperate, I'll let you help out, but please be patient with me in the meanwhile."

She sighed, then nodded silently, the motion lightly rocking the entire collection of stargazers.

"I Love you, you know," She said.

"And I Love you too," He said, "All of you."

Jaquelyn and the voice on the other side of the radio echoed his sentiments, and Harry reached his small arms around Catherine so he could hug the man, and hold Jaquelyn's hand too.

They stayed out late in the warm September air, watching the stars and savoring the moment of togetherness, each finding refuge in the company of the others from past wounds.


	2. Chapter 2

September, 1991.

Two middle-aged women, two middle aged men, two young women, and two children stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, flanked by a pair of enormous trunks and a massive dog. It was three minutes to ten, when boarding for the Hogwarts Express would begin, and the various humans, and singular canine, were shifting through various forms of goodbye hugs. The Canine was on the receiving, not giving end. The trunks were not included in the process.

"Now kids," One of the men, a mischievous, black-haired fellow, "Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't, and don't get caught doing anything I would!"

A sharp smack across the back of his head from the elder of the two middle-aged women before she spoke, smiling sadly down at the two children.

"Don't take him seriously, Hermione, Harry. Remember to give respect where it is earned, and look for the spirit of the law, and try to follow that where it is just."

The two children nodded solemnly, as a clock chimed the passing of the hour, and then the younger of the adult women snorted, her violently colorful hair twitching in a decidedly non hair-like manner.

"Right!" She said, "Enough of this serious nonsense!" And then proceeded to wrestle the entire group into a single, massive, bone-crushing hug.

The dog appeared to be helping her.

"Right then," The other middle-aged woman said, "You have Sirius' mirror, right?"

"Yes mum," The girl, who quite resembled her, replied, and held up the small hand-mirror dutifully.

"Good," The black-haired man said, "I'll be along with Draco and Narcissa in about half an hour. Do try to look after the poor sap, but don't put up with his shi-"

He was cut off by one of the women forcefully elbowing him in the ribs.

"I understand, Sirius," The girl said dutifully.

"Right then," The older woman said, "Onto the train with you, and remember, the Boss will take care of you, and we'll be praying for you."

The children nodded, then lifted their featherlight oversized trunks up, and proceeded onto the train, the dog following them.

"Harry?" Hermione asked distractedly.

Harry reached up from where he was sitting on the floor of the compartment, leaning up against the large dog, and tapped her on the shoulder in response.

"Do you think we'll make any more friends?"

Harry tapped rapidly on her shoulder in a complex arrangement, not opening his eyes.

"Just because mum and the Boss say we probably will, doesn't mean we will. He'd tell you that himself."

Harry tapped another pattern onto her shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes, but said nothing, returning her attention to her book. Harry decided to take the opportunity to take a nap. As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too much nap; he'd lost a lot of sleep over the middle eight years of his life, and had plenty of catching up to do. Over the next quarter hour, Harry napped, and Hermione read, not at all an unusual course of events for them, until such time as the noise on the station platform outside the compartment window drew Hermione's attention. Standing up on her bench, she pressed her window to the glass to gaze outside, watching as the assorted magical students and their parents poured onto the platform.

After a while, Harry woke up, and joined her, but from on the opposite bench. Milling about on the platform, they saw young and old, rich and poor, muggles and wizard, pure-bloods and half-bloods, black and white, tall and short, male and female, a veritable cross-section of British humanity. Gradually, the milling mass of humanity began to divide, as students young and younger loaded onto the train, while tearful parents said their goodbyes. Harry and Hermione spotted several families they'd been told they should look out for; a boy with a toad and his grandmother that had to be Neville Longbottom, Amelia Bones and her niece Susan, the morass of red-heads that represented the Weasleys, a pair of Indian girls that had to be the Patil twins, as well as a number of children that were the offspring of recently imprisoned death-eaters.

All of them gradually migrated onto the train, a few peeking into Harry and Hermione's compartment, but all of them moving on to other locations, none noticing the black dog laying on the black floor of the compartment.

"That's a lot of people," Hermione said, slightly subdued.

Harry just nodded as they continued to crowd-watch. Eventually, eleven o'clock rolled around, and final goodbyes were quickly given, and the last passengers boarded as the train slowly began to roll out of the station. It did not escape either of the children's notice that the Weasley family barely made it aboard in time. They were watching the city of London roll by at a steadily accelerating rate, when there came a knock on the door.

"Hello?" A timid boy's voice called, followed by a red-haired head sticking into the compartment, "Can I sit..."

He trailed off as he saw the massive dog on the compartment's floor, his jaw falling open in shock. The dog gazed back up at him, though even laying down on the floor its head easily came up to half the boy's height. The dog began sniffing at the boy, and yelping, he slammed the door shut and rapid footsteps retreated from the compartment. Hermione giggled, then clambered down off of her bench to give the dog a hug, which, due to its size, more or less meant she was laying down on top of the thing since it covered the entire floor. After a few moments of cuddling, she got up and went back to her book.

After tiring of watching the window, Harry lay down on the dog to take a nap, and most of the rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed in this way; Harry sleeping, the dog resting, and Hermione reading. On the whole, it was reflective of much of their lives for the last year.

Once the train arrived at Hogsmeade station, Harry and Hermione climbed on top of the dog, which then stood upright, and the lot of them disappeared. The compartment door slid open, and the stealthy trio followed the swarm of students off of the train. Once they had managed to make their way clear of the crowd, they followed Hagrid and the other first years down to the lake-shore, and the children slipped into one of the boats, while the dog swam alongside. Seamus Finnegan and Justin Finch-Fletchley shared their boat, but aside from exchanging names, Hermione giving her first and last name, and Harry's first, they didn't say much in the boat. At first it was due to shyness, and Seamus constantly distracted by the sound of something moving through the water, but then they gained their first sight of Hogwarts.

It was a fortress, massive and imposing. Possessed of the harsh beauty that can come with bare, cut stone, Hogwarts Castle loomed over them, the lake they were moving across, and essentially everything in the area. It was shaped as a five-pointed star, though they could see only three of the arms from their current perspective, two of which carried a House emblem, Ravenclaw and Gryffidor. Crennelated Battlements topped the walls, and arrow-slits and murder-holes were marginally visible in the moonlight. Hermione burst into an excited description of the various attributes of the various elements of the castle, when they appeared in history, and what roles they played. Seamus and Justin were slightly dumb-struck (either by the castle, or by Hermione's monologue); Harry just stared up with a vague sense of foreboding.

After several long moments of staring, his eyes narrowed, and he moved to the edge of the boat, and moved his hand alongside the hull of the boat, tapping a rhythm onto it. The boat's other three occupants could not hear it over Hermione's rapidly-accelerating monologue about Hogwarts and castles, and the history of castle-building, and various significant historical sieges. She would have continued, but they passed into an underground quay, and the boats pulled alongside the docks.

"Out yeh get," Hagrid said genially, leading by example, "We need te get yeh ta Preffeser McGonagall, follow me."

Harry and Hermione followed at the back of the group, the dog following after taking a moment to shake most of the water out of its fur. It was a slightly over-awed and subdued group that found its way into the antechamber of the Great Hall, whispering nervously amongst themselves, and looking about at the suits of armor, paintings, and various other oddities that were spaced about Hogwarts vast interior. After waiting for a few minutes, the stern Proffessor McGonagall entered the antechamber, and addressed the assembled first years.

"You are about to undergo the sorting ceremony," She said, meeting the eyes of each child in turn, "It is one of the most crucial singular experiences you will undergo during your time at Hogwarts. Each of the four houses is well-known for its different strengths, and many life-long friendships will be formed within your house during your time here. Now, follow me, quietly"

The assembled first years, most of them cowed by her stern gaze, quietly followed her into the Great Hall. Five massive tables occupied the five walls of the hall, four occupied by students of varying ages, one occupied by an assortment of adults. The children's tables were marked by the banners of the four houses of Hogwarts, the adults was unmarked. What drew the children's attention the most, however, was their first look at Albus Dumbledore. They had heard a great deal about him, both good and bad, and had been warned that more than anyone else they would encounter, he was one to be wary of. Hermione could certainly sense that something was different about him, but had a hard time being certain of what it was. Harry, who had learned hard lessons about how to tell who was on top of the local food chain, could immediately tell both by the way the man carried himself, and those around him regarded him, that he was unquestionably the top dog.

Harry smirked at that thought, a very unusual thing for him, and reached over to rub the dog's fur.

"Abbot, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called, and the sorting began.

Like the rest of the first years, for the first few sortings, Harry and Hermione's attention was split between watching where people were sorted to, and taking in the massive and heavily enchanted Great Hall. Their distraction ended when "Black, Draco!" was called.

Draco Black, formerly Malfoy, stalked up to the sorting hat, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in determination, passing a scathing, challenging glare across the entire Great Hall, before sitting down on the stool, and forcibly applying the Sorting Hat to his head. Several long minutes passed, and even the youngest first year could read the harsh tension in Draco's posture while he sat beneath the hat. Finally, the hat pronounced it's judgement.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Draco's entire body went slack in easily-seen shock, and he just sat there. After a few moments of silence, Professor McGonagall removed the hat from the young Black's head, and directed him towards the Badger's table. Shocked whispering took up throughout the hall, and it was not just restricted to the students; Draco was the first Black _or_ Malfoy to be sorted into any house other than Slytherin for _decades_, save only Sirius Black. Harry and Hermione had a furious, half-whispered conversation as the sorting continued to progress, until Professor McGonagall called "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione strode half-confidently, half-nervously up to the hat, and deliberately setting it on her head.

"Hello miss Granger," it said in her ear, "What have we here? Quite the mind you have in here, quite the mind indeed. Whatever do you intend to do with it?"

Hermione found herself suddenly very confused. What _did_ one do with a mind anyways? The hat chuckled in her ear.

"It's quite alright girl, you're only eleven, all the time in the world to decide what to do with it. Many like you end up in Ravenclaw, but it's clear enough to me that you've already found purpose for your mind beyond simple learning itself, so, I'll put you in HUFFLEPUFF!"

The last words resounded throughout the hall, like every other child's sorting had since the tradition began, and Hermione carefully returned the aged hat to Professor McGonagall, before scurrying off to the Hufflepuff table. She sought out Harry with her eyes as she moved, and gave him a reassuring smile, before carefully picking a spot at the house table that had an open seat next to it. The Sorting continued apace, until McGonagall got to "Potter, Harry!"

Harry hopped up on top of the dog, ignoring the furious whispers that started up at the mention of his name, and rode out to where Professor McGonagall stood with the Sorting Hat. Standing upright, the dog was taller than she was. McGonagall was initially shocked by the appearance of the massive dog, wondering how on earth she had missed it earlier, but when it became obvious that Harry was perfectly safe on top of it, she chose not to worry about it. She had seen stranger familiars before, albeit very few. Once the massive creature reached her with Harry, she reached up to place the hat on Harry's head, but the dog cut her off by laying down in front of her, bringing Harry's head down to around her shoulder level, and within much easier reach. She plopped the hat down on his head, and stepped back to wait.

"Oh my," Said the hat into Harry's ear, and then for a long time, nothing at all.

"It has been a long time since I've seen someone with it quite as bad as you," The hat finally said, "After I've finished sorting you, I'd like you to place me on The Boss's head, okay?"

_Yes_, Harry thought to the hat. There was silence again for a long time, and then-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted, and Harry nodded, pulled the hat off his head, then dropped it onto the head of the dog beneath him.

Amelia Bones looked across her desk at the smiling, pink-haired, far-to-young-looking, impossibly cute hopeful Auror candidate. It had been a year and change since she'd last conducted one of these interviews, but Mad-Eye had pushed the young woman off on her, saying she'd want to handle the girl personally. As Minister of Magic, technically she could conduct interviews of any potential employee, and one didn't ignore Alastor Moody's recommendations without _very _good reason.

"So," She said slowly, "Miss Tonks, you know we usually accept new applicants at the beginning of the Summer, when Auror training begins. Would you care to explain why you did not see fit to apply until two months after the program has already begun?"

"My previous employment had not finished yet," Tonks said cheerfully, and her impossibly bright grin was beginning to annoy Amelia.

"I see," She said slowly, casting a withering gaze at the girl, who for some reason just grinned all the brighter, "And what occupation would be sufficient justification for me to grant you late entry to the Auror program?"

"Tutor and Bodyguard for a Lord," Tonks said brightly, and Amelia was now very certain that somehow, she was being teased.

"And who would that Lord happen to be?" Amelia asked slowly, intensifying her gaze towards becoming a glare.

"Lord Potter," Tonks said cheerfully.

Amelia blinked.

"Lord _Harry_ Potter?" She said forcefully.

Tonks nodded enthusiastically.

"And how long have you been filling this role?" Amelia asked sharply.

"About thirteen months," Tonks sad, her tone finally becoming somewhat more serious, "Ever since I tracked him down the week after he went missing."

"You found," Amelia said slowly, "Harry Potter, who large portions of the Magical World have been searching for for thirteen _months_, in one _week_ on your _own_?"

"Yes," Tonks said, her tone deadly serious, but her grin positively nefarious.

"I do believe," Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic, said after a moment, "That we can use your services here at the Ministry."

Well, I hadn't expected _that_.

"I hadn't either," The Sorting Hat said in my ear.

Well, this was screwy.

"I'll say," The hat said, "Your mind is a scary place, you know that?"

"Try living here," I said in my mind, "You know that I know that you know I'm fully aware of just how disgusting my mind can be."

"You aren't much of a man for the middle ground," The hat admitted, "You seem to be set on doing either the absolute best or absolute worst of a thing."

Closing my eyes, I silently admitted the unfortunate truth of that. There are things in my mind I am _not_ proud of.

"I wouldn't be either," The hat said, "But you know that I know that you know I was made for a purpose."

"Right," I replied, "Put me in Hufflepuff."

"Very sure of yourself," The hat said, laughing.

"Yes," I replied, "And you know that I know that you know that I've been through worlds of speculations about how you do or don't do this."

"Yes," The hat replied, "And I know that you know that I know that you are ever one to be direct when you think you can get away with it."

"Yes," I replied, and we let that sit for a while, while my thoughts wandered.

"Yes," The hat said, "I am self-aware regardless of whose head I sit on. And I _could_ tell you the means by which I make my final selection, but it's just so much more fun to leave you in suspense."

"Jerk."

The Hat laughed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" It shouted, and then was laughing out loud as Harry picked it up off my head, and handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall.

I snorted, shaking my head, and trotted over to the Hufflepuff table with Harry on my back. My rather sensitive wolf ears were on the edge of pain from the amount of enthusiastic applause that the Hufflepuff's were giving off, but it died down as I sat down beside Hermione, and Harry slipped down into the seat next to her. I kept careful track of the proceeding sorting with one ear, making sure there were not more than the three deviations from the Harry Potter cannon I'd already noted. Well, I'm pretty much responsible for them switching houses, I suppose, since I'm the one who monkeyed with this world. Still, Draco 'Malfoy' in Hufflepuff? Cannon Malfoy'd hang himself in shame. Considering how hard the boy was fighting to hold to his father's ideals, I suppose it makes sense.

Wonder what Lucius would make of his son ending up in Hufflepuff out of loyalty to him. Probably break what's left of his mind. Dumbledore passed along his usual set of announcements and warnings, including the one about the third floor corridor. Sounded like the trap for Quirrelmort was right on schedule. I switched my focus from internal musings to the world around me as I was directly addressed.

"Hello," A red-head sitting next to Hermione said, starting to stick her hand out to shake, then aborting the move halfway, confused, "I'm Susan Bones."

"This is Boss," Hermione said, "He's some sort of magical dog, according to Misses Gates, he's at least as smart as you and I, except when he's being stupid."

I took advantage of Hermione's distraction to do the gentlemanly thing when a lady offers her hand; leaned forward and kissed it. With a doggy kiss; my tongue is bigger than her hand, and I made sure to leave a healthy dose of drool all over it.

"Eww!" Susan said, her attention firmly back on me, "What'd you do that for?"

I affected a grin, then nudged her in the chest with my nose. Her eyes got kind of wide when I did that; it's a matter of perspective. It's one thing to realize someone or something is big, it's quite another when it gets close enough for you to realize that it could fit your entire body inside its jaws, and that it's teeth are measured in inches, not centimeters. The appropriate response to this instinctive fear I'd invoked was, of course, to lick her entire face. This served several purposes; it established me as more likely to behave like a pet dog than a predator wolf, it was a clear friendly act, it got her to close her eyes reflexively and focus on the warm, funny sensation rather than the potentially-frightening image, and it was damn funny.

"EWW!" She said again, this time half shrieking it, scooting back on her hair to get away from my messy tongue.

Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes, and collected a pair of napkins to help the girl wipe her face. I'd carefully avoided involving her hair in the process; nothing worse for getting most girl's dander up than messing with their hair, especially in a new, first-impression type social situation like this. She's still a little girl, so nowhere near as picky about such things, but it's good to be considerate.

"Why'd you do that?" The girl said, looking at me accusingly once her face was clear enough that she was willing to risk opening her eyes.

I grinned at her again, nudging her hand and wagging my tail.

"It means he likes you," Hermione said, "Just because he's an intelligent person, doesn't mean he thinks like a human; he's still a dog. If you ask him nicely, he'll stop doing it, at least for the most part."

Dog's don't have the physical capacity to laugh, not like humans do, because it cracks me up every time Hermione says that. If only she knew...

"Well," Susan said, looking me directly in the eye, "Boss, I would appreciate it if you would not lick me without my permission, I understand it means you like me, but it's still gross."

She made a bit of a face at that, and I responded by bumping her chest with my nose again, then grinning. This time, she smiled and raised her hand again, before looking at me uncertainly.

"He likes hugs," Hermione said helpfully, and the Bones girl nodded, before wrapping her little eleven-year-old arms around my head and hugging as best she could. I closed my eyes and rumbled in my throat, luxuriating in the sensation. I've always been a hug-addict. I grew up in a huggy family, with two affectionate little sisters, and one of the things I regret about growing up is the lack of physical contact. One of the things I've enjoyed about being a huge fuzzy critter is that little kids, the few that've hung out with me enough to get used to me, enjoy climbing all over me. Being around kids all the time also helps keep my mind in balance; going over Riddle's leavings while Horcrux hunting is a good way to unbalance your mind, and cuddly little kids sitting on your head helps remind you that things aren't all doom and gloom.

Unfortunately for my hedonistic hug-cravings, the bones girl pulled back, and then after exchanging a smile for a grin, turned back to her meal. Refocusing my attention on Harry for a moment, I saw that he was doing fine, eating steadily with that meticulous, determined pace of his, determined to enjoy every last bite, then shifted my attention back to the staff table. In cannon, and practically every piece of fanfic I've read, there are at the least, meaningful stares at Harry from the staff table, sometimes a lot more. Harry had already told me that Voldemort was here, and since I saw Quirrel with his turban, that probably meant I'd be dealing with Quirrelmort soon, and I was _definitely_ going to be dealing with Snape.

Sure enough, after a little while Snape tried to glare at Harry, and I caught him at it. Not much was to be made of it, until Harry looked up and met the man's eyes, and jerked back, coming around to hide behind me. Somewhat surprised, Snape looked up to meet my eyes, and that was when I caught him trying to break into my mind. It's not cannon specific, but it shows up in fanfiction often enough, and the idea of Snape, or just about anyone, but _particularly_ Snape breaking into someone's mind has always _really_ pissed me off. This was something I could not, and _would not_, tolerate.

I snarled, charging the staff table and leapt across the damn thing in a single massive bound, aiming to come crashing down on top of Snape. Unfortunately for me, Albus Dumbledore is a _fast_ old wizard, and he apparently puts as much value on Snape as the books say, because he caught me with some sort of Levitation spell in the middle of my leap, and I floated aimlessly in the air above the staff table, snarling down at the disgusting greasehead.

"What on earth is going on?" McGonagall said, but I consciously chose to keep my attention obviously focused on Snape, manifesting Correspond as I did so, and dropping Harry a message. _Snape was trying to break into my mind,_ I sent him, _Was he trying to break into yours too?_

_Yes_, Harry replied.

_Bring Hermione over here and translate please,_ I sent back, and received the mental equivalent of a nod in response.

In the meantime, the Hogwarts faculty, about four dozen strong, had organized themselves into some semblance of order, and McGonagall's attention had shifted from me to Snape, while Dumbledore simply watched on with a faintly amused expression, keeping me suspended in the air. I didn't bother trying to break out; neither a familiar or a first year would have the power, and I suspected that even if I tried and failed, Dumbledore would easily learn that I have more active magic potential than _any_ student should.

"Why on earth would this..." McGonagall trailed off for a moment to look at me, "Are you male or female?" She asked.

"He's male, Professor," Came Hermione's voice as she and Harry arrived at the staff table.

"Right," McGonagall said, "Why would this young man feel obliged to attack you like this Severus?"

Harry rapidly began signing to Hermione, but Snape spoke before he managed to convey my message.

"I have no idea, Minerva," Snape said sourly, staring up at me with open dislike, "Perhaps I had an unfortunate run in with him when he was a puppy."

"Harry says 'he tried to break into our minds,'" Hermione said, looking slightly green.

_That_ little nugget bought me another shocked silence, and I wished I had the physical capability to smirk for a moment, but I suppose it's just as well I didn't; it would have given me away.

"Severus," McGonagall said sharply, "Is this true?"

"Of course not!" Snape said, "That's preposterous."

I snarled, a massive, vicious sound, and made an attempt to somehow tumble free of the force Dumbledore was restraining me with. I didn't honestly expect to break free, but I _was_ honestly pissed at the pathetic little liar, and my efforts conveyed a clear message. I passed along a more clear message via Harry and Hermione. As the translation passed through Harry and Hermione, Dumbledore tried to cast something mind-affecting on me, but I shrugged it off. Turning to face him, I growled, staring him in the eye, _daring_ him to try something similar. He didn't, which is either a good or a bad thing; he's quite possibly powerful enough to pull something like that off.

"It would appear," Albus said, "That our unusual new student does not appreciate having magic cast unexpectedly upon him, even something so simple as a calming charm. I believe it would be best if we moved this to my office."

_That_ could be very good, or very bad. In the canon, a lot of things are either revealed or resolved in the Headmaster's office, in the Fanon, a lot of mind-control or bad things take place in the office. Considering this reality is a hell of a lot more realistic than the plot-hole-riddled children's novels the canon books were, this made me _very_ wary. Still, have to find out how things are going to work some time or another. To my surprise, I actually found being floated all the way up to Dumbledore's office to be an offense to my dignity. Didn't realize I had any sense of that left. Oh well.

It was a relatively short trip to Dumbledore's office, with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Pomona Sprout, and madam Pomphrey being the only attending members of staff, with Harry, Hermione, and I representing the students. For those of you wondering, Albus _does_ do his chair conjuring and lemon-drop-offering trick. I took him up on the lemon drop before laying down, and once I was seated and partially out of his line of sight, I inspected it with Arcane Sight. No magic present; excellent. Still, wolves taste things differently, and it wasn't all that tasty. I doubt I'll take another one in the future.

Harry and Hermione, like the well-trained survivalists they were, waited until I had chowed down on mine before accepting one themselves. Albus really _does_ light up with one of those 'eccentric old man' grins when you accept one. Once he had everybody seated, including myself on the floor, Albus took his own seat and addressed the crowd, so to speak.

"Very well then," Albus said amiably, "Now let us establish exactly what happened. Mister Potter?"

Harry looked at me, and I grinned, nodding to him. Harry turned his attention to Hermione, and began signing to her.

"Harry says he was eating," Hermione said in her 'translator's voice', "And then looked up at the staff table, and then that man," She pointed to Snape, "Tried to break into his mind. After Harry looked away, he tried to do it to Boss too, and Boss decided to tackle him."

"Perhaps Harry and Boss were mistaken as to what Professor Snape was attempting to do," Dumbledore said, "Many highly skilled Legilimens have a passive form of Legilimency that remains always active, which allows them to discern the truth."

_Do you think I could get away with rolling my eyes?_ Harry said over our correspondence link.

_Don't see why not,_ I replied, and so Harry did.

"No respect, Potter?" Snape said, eyes narrowing at Harry when he caught the boy's action.

Harry rolled his eyes again, and looked at Hermione, but didn't bother to sign anything. Hermione fidgeted nervously, not happy to need to put her own words into this conflict amongst authority figures, but buckled down and spoke.

"Tonks taught us how to tell when someone was trying to break into our minds, and how to resist," She said nervously.

That declaration met with silence, save for McGonagall sighing.

"I suppose," McGonagall said, looking at Hermione and drawing all eyes to herself, "That now that you two are here, the Queen's edict has passed?"

Hermione nodded.

"Very well then," She said, turning to Dumbledore, "Almost a year ago, on September 17th, I was in the Greater London area, to introduce Miss Granger, as a Muggle-Born to the magical world on her birthday. When I arrived at her house, I found Harry Potter visiting," Surprised gasps came from several staff members, "And one of his guardians informed me that by order of the Queen, Lord Potter's location and disposition was to remain secret from the magical community at large, until such time as his guardians saw fit to move him back into the public sphere."

Nearly a full minute of silence passed as the various adults in the room digested that, and I carefully scrutinized their reactions as they did so. Albus was clearly surprised, but impossible to read beyond that. Snape was furious, Sprout was intrigued, and Pomphrey was concerned. Good trait for a physician; concern. Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"Pomona," He said, "Miss Tonks was a member of your house, would you say she is an adequate protector for Harry?"

"I know she is attempting to get into the Auror program," Sprout said, "And I would give her good chances of entering too, she even passed Severus' NEWT potions program."

"I would be greatly surprised if she did not make Auror," McGonagall put in, "Especially considering she found Harry on her own, well before I happened upon him in September."

"Well then," Dumbledore said with his trademark cheer, "I'm glad to hear young Harry has been in good hands. This does, however, raise another question, why does Harry not speak for himself, and how is it he seems to know so much of 'Boss's' thoughts?"

Hermione, happy to be on more stable ground, E.G. simply distributing facts she had no stake in creating.

"Harry's mute," She said, "We're not sure if it's psychological or physiological, but he hasn't spoken a word since I met him, and Misses Gates said she's never heard him speak either. Boss speaks to Harry's mind, and Harry speaks back. Catherine and Misses Gates both learned both English and American Sign Language with us, so we can all speak with Harry, and I brought the instructional material in case anybody here wants to learn."

People took a few seconds to digest that, before Dumbledore asked another question.

"Well," He said, "I suppose that begs the question, of what exactly _is_ 'Boss'?"

"He's a Spellwarped Canid," Hermione supplied helpfully, "He's let me study him a little, and he's quite fascinating, really. He's deeply magical intrinsically, and also highly resistant to its effects."

"I've never heard of this race before," Dumbledore said, "Where are they from?"

"Oh, from what Misses gates passed along from The Boss, they usually are the result of generations of magical experimentation."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "That would explain why 'Boss' is so adverse to magic being used on him unexpectedly, even something so slight as a Calming Charm. I believe that, before we go any further with this, we should adjourn to allow Madam Pomphrey to examine both Harry and Boss, for the sake of the health of both of them. Shall we meet again tomorrow, at ten AM?"

The various adults nodded, and the students didn't really have much of a choice, so we were ushered off to the medical wing. There we were subjected to Madam Pomphrey performing a broad battery of tests on Harry and I both, all of which I carefully memorized the wand movements for, trying to discern what spells she was using. There was a _lot_ of Divination involved; hopefully I'd be able to get Hermione to help me look up the spells in the library later. I also noticed Dumbledore was paying particular attention to the scans of me. Not too much of a surprise there, but it put me slightly on edge; what if he decided he wanted a closer look at who and what I am? I'd have to be careful about getting caught alone in the castle.

It took about a half an hour for Pomphrey to finish her study of me, and then move on to Harry. I wondered what she'd make of him. Heck, I wonder what she'll make of _me_, this _is_ the first time I've been examined by a magical medical professional since coming to this dimension. Her examination of Harry was much shorter, only about five minutes, and she came away with a surprised and troubled expression.

"What is the word, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well," She said, "Harry's throat has physical damage preventing him from speaking, but it's nothing I can't fix with a little work. There are many, many other internal scars in his body though, it's readily apparent he's taken organ damage repeatedly in the past," Her expression and tone became grave, "That kind of damage only comes from repeated, harsh beatings Albus. This child has been sorely abused."

Dumbledore nodded equally gravely.

"That," He said, "I gather is the reason for all the security around young Harry. What of 'Boss'?"

"In a moment," She said, "First I should tell you that someone has layered several potent protective enchantments over Harry, designed to ward his body from physical harm, fire, electricity, and several other things that would take far longer to identify."

"Really?" Dumbledore said, "Mister Potter's new guardians must be more capable than I had thought."

Hermione nodded, though I don't think either of the faculty noticed.

"Boss," Pomphrey continued, "Is an intensely magical creature with similar magical protections layered upon him, and a great deal more innate magic beneath that. He's also immensely strong and tough physically, and bears a great deal of physical similarities to an enormous Werewolf. Something about his internal magics have made it so that none of my spells were able to read to his magical core, or beyond the surface of his skin really. I could use more powerful scans, but they're somewhat invasive, and that would require parental permission."

Dumbledore nodded before speaking.

"Quite possibly something worth pursuing, and we shall definitely contact Harry's guardians about his physical condition, but I think it is time we allow these young students to head to bed."

It's been a long time since I'd been shooed off to bed. It was at that point that I realized I was not simply being treated as a student, like in my college days, but like an _eleven year old_ student. It's been a long time since anyone's had the guts to blatantly treat me like a child; this might take some getting used to. Harry and Hermione were both pretty wiped, so I played horsie and carried them to the Hufflepuff dorm, where I realized a bit of a problem; I couldn't speak in this form, and the dorm's require spoken passwords.

That could seriously cut into my plans for night-time exploration, and I'd hate to see the Ring of Sustenance I got off Cologne go to waste; favors from Amazons are expensive, after all. The Hufflepuff common room was a cozy place, a fireplace in each of four walls, each corner of the square room with a staircase leading off elsewhere. One to the rest of the castle, one to a study room of some sort, and one each for the boy's and girl's dorms. I dropped Hermione off at the base of the girl's dormitory, then carried Harry off to the first year boy's dorm.

I was considerably amused to find a massive, six-foot diameter doggy basket with blankets in the dorm. I'm not sure if it was a factor of Hogwarts intrinsic magic, or preparation on the part of the House Elves, but it was pretty awesome nonetheless, especially since it was next to the bed with Harry's trunk. The room was moderately large, and had modest beds up and down the left and right walls viewed as you entered, Harry's bed and my basket on the right side, and there were dressers for clothes at each bed except mine, which had something more like a multi-tiered coat rack. There was a large dog collar, colored yellow and black hanging from one of the hooks, so I guess it was meant to be a collar rack. A set of basement windows, the little ones that are just up underneath the ceiling, were set into each wall except for the one with the door.

I watched as Harry settled in to sleep, then went down for my own two hours.

+220 XP

'Late' for a pair of eleven year olds is quite subjective, and personally eleven PM isn't all that late; going to sleep then allowed me to be up at one AM though, to commence my explorations of Hogwarts castle. I figured that gave me about six hours before I should/would be going to pick up Harry and Hermione for breakfast; hopefully enough to get the general layout of things, and if I was lucky, find the Room of Requirement. That room is one of _very_ few things in this castle that would not be under Dumbledore's ready purview or control. Also, it contained the second-to-last Horcrux.

Sirius and I had spent a lot of blood and effort getting rid of the first four. The cup had been the most difficult, requiring some considerable finagling with the Goblins on our part. Mercenary little bastards in their dealings with wizards, but they seemed to respect strength, and that's something I've got in spades. They also weren't as harsh on Sirius once they realized he was associating with a Werewolf, so I suspect they're rather bitter, as a whole, over Fantastic Racism. A large part of me was practically dying to dig into the issue, but they're a proud race, and I've had too many other things needing to get done to take the time to handle it properly.

Hogwarts, I quickly discovered, is every bit as massive as a full-size castle should be, and then some. After my second hour of exploration I was certain that the interior of the castle was an extra-dimensionally enlarged space, and I was glad of my decision to wait until I was outside of the castle to try using Arcane Sight on the thing. The castle was in the shape of a five-pointed star, one arm for each house, and one for the faculty. Dorms were either on the top or the bottom of the wing, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw having massive towers atop their wings, and Faculty housing and offices for the non heads-of-house, as well as the 'Hospital Wing' and Library took up most of the Faculty wing. The central portion of the castle consisted almost entirely of the Great Hall on the ground floor, its vaulted and arched ceiling rising several floors, and the Headmaster's office and residence above it, with the kitchens and food stores below.

The Hufflepuff dormitory's entrance was quite close to the Kitchen entrance, and thus probably the closest to the Great Hall overall, but I didn't take the time to locate the entrance to the other dorms, so I'm not entirely sure. I figured it'd be quicker and easier to just stalk some students back to their own dorms. Considering I've got Hide in Plain Sight, and can be effectively invisible if there's a shadow handy, and I'm packing an absolute minimum of +35 to Hide and Move Silently, odds of me being noticed are slim at best. I'm not sure how the D'n'D mechanic is adapting to real world, but for those of you not in the know, a student would, at absolute best, have something like +17 to Spot or Listen, maybe +19 for upper years, but that's if they were focusing on those skills like hunters or trackers, not magical academics. Much chancier bet with the faculty, but my odds are still good, especially if I start using some of the magical augmentations for those abilities I have.

Either way, I instead occupied myself this first night, with getting a general feel for the layout of the place, determining just how irritating the moving staircases were, and successfully finding the Room of Requirement. There's only so many seventh-level corridors, even in such a massive castle, for it to be located in. For the first time in almost a day, I shifted back to my original, human, form. It didn't take too long to locate the Horcrux; my Spot might not be as good as my Hide, but it's still pretty doggone good. Shifting into Hybrid form, I pulled back with a Mountain Hammer, and slammed my oversized fist into the Horcrux. It took a second round of Mountain Hammer, but I smashed the thing, and listened with some satisfaction to the soul-fragment's dying scream.

Mountain Hammer, for those of you not in the know, is a maneuver from Tome of Battle that ignores the hardness and damage reduction of whatever you hit with it, and tops on an extra 2d6 damage. That basically translates to whatever I hit being no more difficult to damage than the human body, as far as resistance to damage goes, though powerful objects and artifacts tend to have more hit points than most humans. One more Horcrux down, one left to go. Unfortunately, the last one left is Harry's scar, and I don't know how to get rid of that one yet, not without killing Harry anyways. Every attempt I've made to study it with Arcane Sight or similar has just threatened to knock me out with sensory overload; Riddle was just too much more powerful than me for me to be able to make heads or tails of it yet.

Still, one step closer, I just wish Dumbledore could have been an ally for this, as he might have some useful ideas. He'd already shown, however, that whether he was evil or just well-intentioned extremist (possibly more dangerous), he wasn't one of the good guys, or trustworthy. It had only taken one action, or rather lack thereof on his part, for me to realize that. He hadn't even bothered to ask Snape if he had actually attempted to break into our minds, instead simply attempted to find a way to maneuver things so that Harry and I would not be considered sufficiently informed to know, then immediately re-directed attention to other matters when that proved impossible. He _knew_ Snape had tried to break into our minds, and was actively trying to cover for the man. As far as he knew, we were both children, and Harry _is_ a child, and for condoning attempted mind-rape, Dumbledore had clearly earned status as untrustworthy.

The big question on my mind, and the one that would probably not be revealed before this morning's coming meeting, but was crucial to know for how to conduct myself in it, was how far was he willing to go?

+1100 XP.


	3. Chapter 3

The books were right; Mountain Trolls are big, strong, ugly, and stupid. They were also, from the level of power I was working from now, practically toys to beat on. It was Halloween, and I was practically itching for a fight; knowing what was to come, I had stealthily followed Quirrel down out of the castle, to the edge of the frobidden forest, where he'd triggered some sort of magical item, and a couple minutes later a Troll hulked out of the forest, then followed him into the school. Once Quirrel was gone, I immediately revealed myself, to either talk it down or kick it's ass.

It immediately attacked, so I chose the second option. It's opening club-swing flashed past me, slamming into the stone corridor wall, knocking chips of stone and wood flying. I retaliated by shifting form to Hybrid, casting haste, and clawing the hell out of its chest. It made clumsy attempts at warding me off by swinging at me wildly with its club, but I just ducked out of the way as it began to scream in pain. A few more slashes with my claws later, and its scream cut off as as I tore its throat out, and it gurgled and died.

Hm. That was kind of dissapointing. +1155 XP. Definitely dissapointing. Oh well, there were _other_ ways to get satisfaction out of this little escapade. I was expecting more of a fight, or maybe even a Troll that required fire or acid damage to kill. War Trolls are pretty badass. Shrugging, I grabbed the thing with one arm, then with a grunt, rolled over and pulled it with me, so that it was slung across my back as I stood on all fours, then shifted back to Dire Wolf form, and headed off after Quirrel, calculating my timing for best effect.

"Troll! In the Dungeons! Thought you ought to know..." Quirrel collapsed.

Minerva McGonagall was on her feet immediately, wand in hand, calculating the best way to guard her students and organize a search and removal party simultaneously. Pandemonium ensued amongst the students, yelling, shouting, panic, some students jumping up and moving to flee the Great Hall. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a sound like a thundercrack rent the air.

"Please remain calm," He commanded sternly, "If Prefects will..."

Dumbledore trailed off as a large Mountain Troll slid into the Great Hall, and then was dropped onto the floor beside Quirrel's unconscious body by the large, black form of Boss. Troll blood began rapidly pooling around the Canid and two bodies as Boss calmly surveyed the hall, then trotted over towards Harry and Hermione at the Hufflepuff table. After a moment, Hermione stood and faced Pomona Sprout.

"Professor," Hermione said, "Boss has Troll funk all over him, and wants to go take a bath. May we be excused?"

Pomona blinked, thought for a moment.

"Of course dear," She said, "I'll come with and help."

"No," Sirius said into the phone, "Lost him again."

...

"_Yes_, Jaquelyn," He said with no small amount of irritation, "We are eating decently."

...

"Fine, I'll put Moony on."

"Hello Mrs. Gates," Lupin said pleasantly into the phone, not not looking up from cleaning his shotgun.

...

"Yes," He said, "I've been keeping him from eating like a bachelor, despite his status as one."

...

"Yes, I'll keep him from doing something stupid and getting himself killed." Lupin looked up from the phone, to Sirius, and passed it back to the man, "She wants to you speak again."

Sirius took the phone.

"What, _mum_?" He said.

...

He blushed.

"I love you too," He whispered, then disconnected.

Sirius tried very hard to ignore Lupin's mad smirk and quiet chuckling.

"Well, Madam Pomphrey," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "What is the word?"

"Boss is fine," She said, "I don't think the Troll didn't manage to so much as hit him; I think that we should ask after his Guardian's permission for more intrusive scans again though, just to be sure."

"And the Troll?" Dumbledore asked.

"Had its throat torn out," Pomphrey said, her tone slightly queasy, "As well as deep lacerations all across its chest. The only pleasant thing I have to say, is that it died quickly."

Dumbledore sighed sadly.

"It is unfortunate that the poor creature died, but I can hardly deny Boss's claim that he was looking to protect his pack, it would have been tragic if nearly any other student in the school had been the one to run across the creature."

Pomphrey nodded, then looked down at the sleeping Canid occupying a heavily modified hospital bed. He had to be the single oddest student she'd ever had; a dog taller than she was, but quiet and well-mannered, at least judging by body-language and the fact she had never once heard him bark. She honestly did not know what to make of him.

I spent a far amount of November 1st in the Library with Harry and Hermione, while Hermione essentially ran a guided study on Trolls. It was pretty educational, learning what the magicals hereabouts had on Trolls; like for example the fact that there _are_ War Trolls in this world, but they're intelligent enough that they form their own communities in out of the way places, like Sasketchewan. It figures that they'd be Canadians. Time in the library was, on the whole, somewhat dull, but had massively expanded my overall background knowledge of the magical world, and broadened my low-level spell list. They had some odd spells here.

On the whole, it had been an interesting couple of months; whoever was writing the rules for this universe paid _attention_ to the fact that Hogwarts was supposed to be the premier school of magic in Europe at the least, if not the world as a whole. It was efficiently and effectively run, each Professor you hear about in the cannon had three assistants, who handled a great deal of the grading, and combined with the professor in class to give any student that was struggling with a spell or concept personal attention and bring them up to speed. For those of you not in the know, standardized education systems are actually usually more of an impediment than an aid to actually learning; people's minds are even more diverse and varied than people's bodies, and trying to force every mind into the same mould is much like literally trying to force everybody's body into the same mould. Doesn't work, can't work, and when you try with people too far outside the norm, you're going to either damage them, the mould, or both.

Also, grading is a huge part of an educator's work load; a necessary one, especially as giving insightful feedback into where students are making mistakes can be key to the learning process, but it's also a massive distraction from more direct and important parts of educating. Taking this load off the primary educator's shoulders, and putting it into the hands of competent secondaries has a large effect on how education plays out. I haven't looked into it, but I'm willing to bet that being a Hogwarts Assistant Professor is an easy step away from full professor at just about any other institution, and the obvious precursor to full professor at Hogwarts itself.

On the whole, I had expected this experience to be a combination of terrifyingly boring mixed with just plain terrifying, the latter if I ended up having to fight with Dumbledore. Instead, I had found a world of engaging education, and not too long after I had gained a vastly expanded mental capacity. If it weren't for extremely strong suspicions that the Headmaster is a heartless bastard, I might have felt uplifted or relieved living in such a place, but no such luck. Dumbledore had been trying to catch me alone for quite a while now, and he was a fast, _sneaky_ heartless bastard, but unfortunately for him, I'm faster and sneakier.

I watched Snape like a hawk whenever we were in his class. All three of us could practically _feel_ his desire to lash out at Harry, but I'm currently half a ton of spell-resistant Wolf, and Snape's not ready to take that on just yet. I wonder what he'll make of the Troll. There was no way in hell I was leaving Harry and Hermione alone with that scum, and had taken considerable pains to ensure such. Mostly that meant making sure that Harry and Hermione never left the Hufflepuff dormitory without me, and the two were never too far apart. Between the size of the dorm, and the size of the Library (I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn we spent a great deal of time there at Hermione's instigation,) there was still the opportunity for some degree of privacy, and the two to not get fed up to death with each other.

Harry and I _did_ push Hermione into spending some time outdoors, getting exercise and etc. I paid particular attention to trying to get the two of them to be competent swimmers; never know when that'll be a life-saving skill. I was still trying to figure out a way to break Hermione of her fear of flying without doing something untrustworthy.

It's hard to figure out how to _legitimately_ balance being a good parent/parent figure while simultaneously trying to prepare children for war. Survival training the year before Hogwarts had been easy; Harry had taken to it like a fish to water, and Hermione had, of course, started developing into a human encyclopedia of the various things you'd want to know, like what potential food is poisonous. They complemented each other fairly well, and by the looks of things, the Bones and Abbot girls had decided to form a circle of friends with Hermione and Harry. It would be interesting to see what skill sets they would develop.

I suppose it shouldn't really surprise me, considering his abuse at the hands of the Dursley males, and that his primary companions over the last year had not included human males, or at the least males in human form, but Harry avoided boys and men as best he could. It was nothing blatant, but he'd make sure he was on the other side of the room, or with a group of girls. Considering the fact that he never spoke aloud, he was much less of an interfering presence in the sort of socialization girls tend towards when alone. It confused and frustrated a number of the faculty, particularly McGonagall and Pomphrey, that Harry still did not speak, even though his vocal apparatus had been repaired.

When I asked him why, he simply told me things were less complicated that way. Trademark signs of having been driven from society, and not wanting to return to it; I couldn't blame him, after all I'm walking around a school as a wolf. Can't really criticize someone else for withdrawing from society when I've so thoroughly done the same. Lyn's probably pissed; she gives worse looks for stuff like this than from when I get shot up. Still, I can hope for better for him, even if I'm all too aware of how thoroughly society is screwed up, and unlikely to be of much aid to him.

Angst. Angst. Aaaaangst. Solution to Angst? Go out and do something.

_Harry_, I Corresponded, standing up from where I had been seated next to him and Hermione in the Library, _I'm going out to do something, call me when you're ready to head back to the dorms._

_Have fun doing stupid things,_ Harry responded cheerfully.

Smart aleck.

Severus Snape had the unfortunate feeling that he was being watched. It was _not_ a pleasant feeling. His tenure as a spy had been relatively brief, and he was no longer active as such, but it had blossomed into a lifetime of paranoia. That paranoia was screaming at him now, so as a Potion Master, he did what came naturally to him, went to his private quarters, magically sealed the door behind him, and searched his potion stock for something appropriate to the occasion. Something to allow him to see the unseen? Something to allow him to track by scent?

"Mister Severus Snape," A voice ground out behind him, and Snape nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face it, "I have been dispatched to have words with you."

Behind him, Snape saw nothing, even as he tracked his wand around the interior of his quarters.

"You won't be needing that," The gravelly voice continued, and his wand was ripped out of his hand.

_Then_ Snape could see what was speaking to him, and it was altogether far too large for his tastes. The hand that still held his wrist was both clawed and furred, but he could see little else about the creature through the large cloak wrapped around its looming form.

"I'm here to have words with you," The creature began.

"_Sectumsempra_!" Snape screamed, directing the curse with his other hand, but to his horror, nothing happened.

"I have suppressed magic locally for the duration of our conversation," The creature continued, "I am here to have words with you regarding illegal use of Legilimency on minors."

Snape was horrified. He had never even _heard_ of such an effect before. How on earth could he fight such a thing?"

"The Crown takes a very ill view of such invasive behavior," His captor continued, "You may consider this a warning. Investigation to prior activities along these lines has begun, and if any further incidents have been uncovered, you will face Justice."

Snape was caught between horror and rage, and his face showed it. Then the hand holding his wrist yanked him into the air, and Snape found his face brought directly before glowing, inhuman eyes.

"_Don't_ screw up again Mister Snape. _Don't_ try to run. Albus Dumbledore may be head of the Wizengamot and ICW, but he is _not_ the ruler of Brittania, and cannot protect you from the Crown's Justice."

Snape found himself hurled violently across the room, slamming into his own bed and then the wall it rested against. When he regained his bearings well enough to look for the figure, it was gone.

"Not everyone gets a weekly meeting with the Minister of Magic, you know," Hestia Jones said, slightly grouchy.

"I know," Tonks nodded, walking alongside her friend through the ministry, "But it's less about me, and more about who I represent."

"Who's that?" Emmaline Vance asked curiously.

"The only known association of Metamorphmagi in Magical Britain," Tonks said cheerfully.

"I thought Metamorphmagi were really rare, like less than one in ten thousand?" Hestia said as they entered one of the ministry lifts.

"We are," Tonks said, smiling brightly, "But we have _excellent_ intelligence gathering abilities for our numbers."

The other two Auror cadets nodded as they rode the lift up towards the Minister's office.

Jaquelyn and Catherine sat at the dinner table, enjoying a dinner of meatloaf, garlic bread, and salad while the theme from Jurassic Park played in the background.

"What's the latest?" Jaquelyn asked.

"Boss killed the troll," Catherine said, "He said it didn't even hit him."

Jaquelyn relaxed slightly.

"How about you and Blaze?" She asked.

"We've found two more sites," Catherine said, "And started work on one of them. He's still trying to get me to use an energy cannon."

Jaquelyn smiled at that.

"What about you?" Catherine asked.

"Oh, another day, another dollar," Jaquelyn said, and began nervously fondling the pendant around her neck, "They want to promote me again."

Catherine snorted, and rolled her eyes.

"Don't go guilt tripping yourself again," She said, "Just because you have a magically enhanced edge, doesn't mean you need to feel guilty about it. You _know_ why we're doing this, and you _know_ you're a good leader, with or _without_ the enhancements."

Jaquelyn nodded, but did not look convinced.

"I still feel like I might be cheating someone else out of their own earned opportunity at a promotion."

"If you think someone else would do a better job," Catherine said honestly, "Recommend them to your superiors. You know John wouldn't want you to compromise your conscience for the plan, he'd tell you it defeats the whole purpose."

"And he'd be right," Jaquelyn sighed, and straightened up a bit, "Thank you Cait, It's nice to have someone to unload on every once in a while."

Catherine fought the urge to roll her eyes again.

"That's why you're always doing it for us..."

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk and schemed. It was something he was both experienced and well skilled with, not to mention naturally talented for. Snape's report of an agent of the Crown accosting him in his quarters was most disturbing; especially considering the creature's apparent ability to suppress magic. Dumbledore had heard mention of such things before, though he had last heard of a Wizard capable of accomplishing such during the first World War, before he had struck his prime. It was an obscure branch of magic, and something of little interest to wizards for obvious reasons; the thought of a creature so powerful physically being capable of such things was rather terrifying.

It was, Dumbledore decided, time to clear up any possible hole in his security. The fact that the Hogwarts wards had given him no notification of the agent's arrival or departure would have neccessitated it in and of itself, but this magical suppression made it all the more key. It would be a chore, but Dumbledore would have to start by doing a thorough diagnostic of the Ward-stones. He might even have to deal with Voldemort's current body himself, and sooner than expected...

December, 1991.

"I have kept your rule, Old Man, no deaths," Snape said, glaring at Dumbledore.

"I am still dissapointed Severus," Dumbledore said chidingly, "I know your task is difficult, but this is still a failure."

"I can only keep so tight a leash on the upper years without giving myself away," Snape half-growled, half-grumbled.

"I understand," Dumbledore said, sighing regretfully, looking down at the unconscious body on the floor, "Who was it?"

"Flint," Snape said, "I have already modified his memory so that he thinks it was coerced, but ultimately consensual."

"I'll have to do the same with Miss Clearwater here," Dumbledore said.

That was it. Line crossed from corrupt but possibly well-meaning to actively malignant. Any form of coherent morality whatsoever now demanded I act. Wishing I had managed to pack Silent Spell somewhere into my build, I cast Haste, and moved. Dumbledore and Snape's eyes were both tracking to the corner of the classroom I'd been hiding in, but I was already past them, Penelope Clearwater's unconscious body in my hands. I had to plan, and plan fast; Dumbledore had unknown levels of abilities, and I already knew that he was far, far above me in far of magical ability, probably well into Epic. Things would be especially bad under Hogwarts teleportation block; Sudden Jaunt is my ace in the hole, good for avoiding all those little things I can't avoid any other way, and it's completely useless here.

I could hear someone running along behind me, though not fast enough to keep up. I triggered a small amulet in one of my pockets.

An alarm blared within both the Gates household, and the surrounding barn.

"Panic button!" Jaquelyn shouted, lurching out of her bed and towards the starwell, adrenaline fueling her system through an accellerated startup.

"On it!" Catherine shouted back, "South vector, Blue Gem!"

_Harry_, I sent via Correspond, _Get Hermione, we're leaving._

_Why?_ Harry asked.

_Caught Dumbledore and Snape trying to cover up a physical rape with mind-rape._

_Hannah and Susan are with us. We're taking them with._

_Fine_, I said, _But we're going to talk about chain of command and when to introduce new factors if we all make it back._

_If? _Harry asked.

_I'm going after the Stone,_ I said, _I can't afford to pass up the chance, or leave it in either side's hands._

As I ran, I withdrew a hit of Gillyweed from my Handy Haversack, and began the somewhat arduous process of inducing my unconscious passenger to swallow it. It took most of the remaining twenty-one seconds I spent maneuvering through Hogwarts, then leaping out of the castle to fall into the lake below. On the way down I dropped an Abjuration to ward Penelope against basic detection spells, and then hit Featherfall right before we struck the surface of the water.

I already had other magical means engaged for swimming and breathing water, and quickly made my way down to meet up with the four other youngsters, and hit them all with the same Obscure spell. The Bones and Abbot girls were more than a little shocked by my appearance; I'm not sure how Harry and Hermione got them into the lake in the first place. I wrapped the lot of them in a massive bear-hug (wolf-hug?), then pushed them off Southeast, to swim across the Ward lines, while turning back towards Hogwarts with all speeed myself.

On a small country homestead, a distance outside of London, a pair of women, armed literally to the teeth, leapt into a flame-orange four-seater baja buggy, and then smashed a small blue sapphire. They dissapeared with a faint pop.

At the northern extreme of Hogsmeade, a flame-orange Baja buggy appeared in the middle of pouring rain, the passenger side door opening and closing briefly, then took off speeding north towards Hogwarts lake.

Albus Dumbledore possessed both an agile and a sharp mind, and had quickly come to a number of conclusions. First, the magical trace on the Haste spell when Miss Clearwater had been abducted was identical to the protective enchantments upon Harry and his friends, and was also the caster that had obscured four students from the wards within Hogwarts lake. Second, considering which students had dissapeared, it was most likely that this caster, the supposed Queen's Agent, was 'Boss', the Spellwarped creature that accompanied Harry everywhere about the castle. With this new information at hand, Boss had been moving in a near-perfect pattern to be holding the position of bodyguard.

Third, 'Boss' was returning to the castle, and there were only four possible reasons for him to do so; Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, or the Sorcerer's Stone. Seeing as how no-one and nothing had disturbed or even probed the wards around the Stone, it seemed unlikely that the Stone was the target. Considering the wards and defenses would give Dumbledore plenty of time to move after the stone itself should he be wrong, Dumbledore moved to protect Snape; any move to protect Voldemort would be questionably productive at best, and certainly reveal his knowledge of Quirrel's possession, something Dumbledore could not afford to take any chance whatsoever of being revealed.

Fluffy was easy; he could smell me, but couldn't see or hear me; I was through the trapdoor before he could act. Devil's Snare was even easier; Freedom of Movement kept it from being capable of ensnaring me. The Key room I solved with a Mountain Hammer driven sword through the lock; I didn't even let the Troll see me, or the chess set either; Fire Immunity took me through the potion room. I guess this thing really _was_ set up for a group of first years; McGonagall's was the only one that could have been remotely threatening to a serious attempt to bypass it, those Chessmen looked like serious business.

When I reached the last room, an incredibly powerful enchantment attempted to ensnare me, and it actually took me a moment to fight it off. That had to be Dumbledore's work. I'm sporting an insanely high Will save, not to mention other things that seriously tweak the hell out of it; this was the first Will save that was even worth mentioning as difficult since I hit about level 5 back in Chicago. I was still confronted with an empty room, but a little use of Scent and some tracking skill I'd picked up over the last year quickly located the stone for me. I grabbed it and rushed out of the stone chamber before looking at the thing with Arcane Sight. Couldn't calculate the caster level; too high, but it was fairly easy to see the thing reeked of Conjuration and Transmutation, no Necromancy. Even if it was a fake, it couldn't curse me too hard then. I heard movement further back.

I swallowed the stone, deactivated Arcane Sight, reverted to my base human form, and slipped into stealth. Making my way back towards the exit, I ran into a problem; Albus Dumbledore standing in the exit from the Chess room.

"'Boss,' I suppose," He said, "I'm afraid I can't let you take the Stone with you."

"What you can or cannot allow is immaterial," I said, moving around so I could see him clearly across the chessboard, "You'll be indicted and imprisoned by the end of tommorrow."

"An American?" He said curiously, reading my accent, "And here I thought you were an agent of the Queen."

"I am," I said, taking note of his glowing eyes. Arcane Sight, damn. No way I was going to be able to slip the Stone past that.

"Oh?" He said, casting True Sight, "However did you gain such a position? And more curiously, how do you hide your form so thoroughly that I cannot see you even with True Sight?"

"Bringing to the Queen's attention the utter failure of her security against serious magical threats, and offering to remove Harry from his abusive relatives was all it took to gain the first," I said, slowly moving forward, "As to the second, that will remain my own little secret."

"You really are a very disruptive student," Dumbledore said, "And very ignorant of legal realities her in Magical Britain and Hogwarts."

I continued to close distance towards the door.

"First off," Dumbledore said, "Your only existence, acknowledged status legally within Magical Britain is as a student of Hogwarts, due to your sorting. You have no listed parents or guardian of any form. Second, the students you have attempted to take off of Hogwarts Grounds are attempting to leave without permission from the appropriate Faculty members, or the presence of their guardians, and thus I am to enforce their return. Third, with no other form of guardian listed, while you are a student here at Hogwarts, _I _am effectively your guardian, permitting me a great deal of leeway in dealing with disciplining you for entering forbidden areas, and attempting to smuggle students off the grounds, not to mention assaulting a teacher."

I was within thirty feet of the door, and clear of the chess set.

"Finally," Dumbledore said, "I am Albus Dumbledore, and have not been defeated in a Duel for one hundred years. You will not leave here until I am satisfied that you will make no further attempts to interfere with my plans for the Greater Good."

He actually said it. I could hardly believe it, but he also actually _meant_ it. He started to cast; I dropped Haste and sprinted around him throught the doorway. Or at least I tried to; I slammed face-first into an unyielding stone wall, and immediately saw the open doorway for the illusion that it was. Solid stone blocked the doorway; I shifted to Hybrid form as the first of Albus spells came off. Three sets of twin-cast Hold Monster spells, one of them Quickened. Damn. I failed at least two of the saves, and was instantly rooted to the spot, utterly paralyzed, and my stealth failed. I couldn't even manifest powers.

"Now," Dumbledore said coming around to look me in the eye, "Let us see what you've been hiding in that rebellious mind of yours."

A child's head emerged from Hogwarts lake for a moment, and peered around the southern shore of the scottish lake. A moment later, three more children's heads emerged, and then they began pulling an unconscious teenager from the lake with them. Once the quintet was fully on the land, a pair of figures dropped invisibility cloaks and let loose a spray of red stunning spells, striking two of the four children.

A thunderous crack sounded through the rainy night, and one of the figure's heads dissolved in an explosion of gore.

A quarter mile away, nested in the eaves of one of the houses in Hogsmeade, Catherine Gates worked the action of her rifle with a grim expression, and looked for another target.

Harry exploded into action, putting his training into action as he rushed and then leapt at the surviving wizard, hands lighting up with flame as he furiously attacked the wizard, but the larger man danced backwards, near-effortlessly evading the boy's blows, dropping him with a stunner. A pair of gunshots rang out, and the wizard looked in confusion at Hermione, crying and trying desperately to aim the 9mm in her hands through the rain. His confusion was completely wiped out when a fist as large as he was slammed into him, knocking the man flying into the lake.

"Come on!" Jaquelyn shouted, running towards the mostly unconscious children and trembling Hermione.

"On it," Blaze's metallic voice boomed out, already gently lifting Harry off the ground as he followed Jaquelyn.

Let me tell you from personal experience, having someone break into your mind is _not_ fun. Dumbledore's mental offence crashed into my mind like a sledgehammer on an eggshell. _Who are you?_ He demanded of my mind, and began ripping up memories to answer his question. A torrent of memories started pouring forth, from my earliest memories of waiting for Winter in Wisconsin, to playing with a friend in a basement in Detroit, to watching the Oilfields burn as I flew over Iraq after the first gulf war, to stepping off the airplane in the middle east with my mother wondering why it was so warm, even when it was midnight.

Screaming in rage at the intrusion, I violently hurled him out of my mind, straining violently against the magical bonds he had placed on me, but unable to break free, and he began his assault again. This time, snarling and gritting my teeth, I managed to fend him off a bit better, but he still managed to force another question through. _Who are you now?_ He demanded, and memories of hunting Barty Crouch Junior, looking myself in the mirror in all three forms, playing with Harry and Hermione all rushed through my mind before I could throw him out again. That was bad; he had seen where we lived, as well as Cait and Lyn's faces.

I broke free of the Hold spell, and stepped forward, bringing out the Swords, slashing at him repeatedly, but the man was like a snake, weaving around my blades at inhuman speeds as he backed away, and lit into me with the triple-double of Hold spells again. This time I slipped around the thurst of two of the spells, but failed to resist at least one of the remainder, and was paralyzed again. Dumbledore seemed pissed, because he ramped up the mental attacks like crazy, crashing through my mental defences like they weren't even there.

_How do you resist?_ He demanded, _Where will Harry go?_ I had mixed satisfaction in responding to the first question; he got mixed impressions of me being a Lycanthrope, parts of my equipment, snippets of me leveling into classes with high Will saves, and me screaming into his mind "I'M A BADASS." I didn't know the answer to the second question, deliberately so, and he got nothing from it.

Breaking the Hold spell again, and gave him a double face-full of Swarm of Crystals, before leaping over him to hide amongst the Chessmen. Hold crashed down on me again, and Dumbledore came into view again, staring me in the eyes once more. _Why do you fight me?_ He demanded, _What is your weakness?_ He got some pretty clear memories at my disgust and loathing at how he handled Snape attempting to break into Harry's mind, and that as far as I was concerned, he'd crossed the line with covering up for rape. Silver and an image of myself and my father were what he got for weakness, let's see him sort _that_ out.

I burst loose from my bonds again, I spat him out a load of Crystals again, bloodying him up but good, even through his heavy magical defenses. His eyes narrowed, and he threw up a Forcecage and Held me again, backing out of range of the Crystal swarm, but maintaining eye contact. I broke the Hold and eye contact before he could try to break into my mind again, and moved up, activating Energy Burst, and blasting the entire surrounding area with intense cold, and hurting the old man again.

Dumbledore retreated further, threw up a spell I didn't recognize, and started trying to cast Dominate Monster on me. Crap. Well, at least now I know what the verbal component for that spell is, 'Imperio' indeed. He hit me with it four times, but I managed to resist the lot, desperation driving me. Barely. He was out of range of almost all my offensive magic, and he had Shield up, so Magic Missile would be useless. That left only one option, and I _really_ hated using it, because it would leave me with 3 Spell Points left for the day.

Antimagic Field. Suppressing almost all magics around me, and lasting ten minutes per level. Only thing that had a chance at getting around it was Mordenkainen's disjunction. Magic field up, I charged Dumbledore, trying to grapple him, but he slipped through my hands like greased butter. Shit. Definitely a Swiftblade if he still had Freedom of Movement going in an AMF.

Then he _cast_ Mordenkainen's Disjunction. When it didn't work, he cast it twice more, until it _did_ work. Shit. At least I was out of the cage. Another Dominate failed to catch me, and then he cast his first damage spell of the combat, a Non-lethal Intensified Enhanced Fireball. The world exploded in flame, but since I was freaking _immune, _I just let the old bastard have another double-spread of Swarm of Crystals.

"Enough," He said, his voice suddenly giving me chills, and then there was a Forcewall between us, and shit began exploding.

Fire, Ice, Lightning, Acid, even Sonic blasts ricocheted around the room, Dumbledore directing them like they were an Orchestra. After I evaded a large portion of the first wave, he dropped another Forcecage on me, and blasted me again. This time, I just took the blows, allowing my defensive magic to soak up the punishment. Once the blasts finally faded, he stared at me through the bars of the Forcecage, and I flinched away from his gaze, looking instead at the shattered remnants of the chess pieces and board.

A good half-minute after the spells stopped, when shreds of stone stopped clattering to the floor, Dumbledore spoke.

"You are a powerful foe," He said gravely, "So much so that I cannot afford to handle you delicately anymore, yet you do not seem to be evil. Tell me, why did you take the Stone?"

"I couldn't leave it to you or Voldemort," I said gruffly, glad that he was asking questions instead of continuing to try to break into my mind.

"And why did you take Harry from me?" He continued, and a part of me felt a vindictive satisfaction at what his phrasing revealed.

"He deserved better than what you left him to!" I snarled, "It's not right to leave _any_ child to that kind of treatment!"

Dumbledore nodded gravely, considering.

"What do you know of Voldemort?" He asked after a moment.

"I've already destroyed five of Riddle's six Horcruxes," I growled, torn between wanting to glare at him, and revulsion at what meeting his eyes could result in, "Including the one that was hidden in Hogwarts. All that remains is Harry's scar."

Dumbledore actually started slightly at that revelation.

"How do you know of these things?" He said forcefully, giving off a tangible aura of power.

"You're not the only one with access to Seers," I snarled, "It was only unbelievable coincidence that I came to a place where I could act on this knowledge, but no man of honor could leave it be."

Again, Dumbledore was quiet for a time.

"Where is the Stone?" He asked.

"Hidden," I replied.

"What do you intend to do with it?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "But keeping it away from madmen like you and Riddle is more than reason enough to take it in and of itself. I'm not sure if I'll keep aging anymore anyways, since I became Spellwarped."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, "I cannot allow you to continue to interfere with my plans, but I think it would better serve the Greater Good for you to remain alive."

Then he cast Geas on me, and kept casting it until it broke through my resistance.

"You will not re-enter Magical Britain without my permission," He commanded with the first, "And you will not in any way, shape, or form attempt to interfere with my plans for Harry Potter," With the other.

Shit.

"Goodbye, John," He said, and dropped a Gate spell, then used Telekinesis to force me through it.

Shit.

+36,520 XP.

When the assorted children woke up, they were in a place they had never been before, but all of them were met by friendly faces. Harry saw Jaquelyn asleep on an easy chair across from the fold-out bed they were asleep on; Susan and Hannah saw Hermione and Harry. Penelope Clearwater was sleeping in a separate room, with Catherine waiting for her, reading a book.

_What happenned?_ Harry signed to Hermione, after shaking her awake.

"You were all stunned," She said quietly, "Misses Gates and, um, _Blaze_ rescued us."

Hermione looked slightly green.

"Why'd we have to leave?" Susan asked groggily, looking at the compact living space around them.

It contained a small kitchenette, the furniture appropriate for both a small living room and dining room, a TV, and had four doors leading off from it.

"Catherine said," Hermione said, swallowing nervously, "That Penelope Clearwater was raped."

"Isn't she the girl that we pulled out?" Hannah asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "I don't know what else happened, but The Boss decided that it wasn't safe for us in Hogwarts, and Harry insisted we take you two with us."

There was a long silence after that.

"I think we need to talk to my auntie," Susan said with a tinge of fear in her voice.

All the other children nodded, feeling very small and afraid.


End file.
